As It Seems
by Borath
Summary: After Chichi's death, Goku finds comfort in brutal sparring with Vegeta. One night it escalates into something more, leaving them to pick up the pieces and deal with a fallout neither of them could have expected. Mpreg.
1. I think I should speak now

General Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Dragon Ball Z and do not claim to.  I make no profit and this story is the product of a twisted mind and an empty pocket only.

Rating: Technically a PG-13 but it could turn into an R, so keep an eye on the rating if you're a kiddie.  Not that it would really stop you.

Warnings: M-preg, allusions to sexual situations, profanity and one or two moderately strong themes.  I prefer fewer readers to flames, so if squicked easily, leave now.

Reader Disclaimer: I'm new to this fandom, painfully so, so please excuse any OOCness and buggering up regarding terminology as, despite having done my best, I'm pretty sure I've gotten a few things wrong.  A few things to say now to ward off flames and to show that I'm not completely ignorant:

I've used 'ki' to mean aura as well as the glowy thing the Saiyans gain when powering up.  I've also gone on to presume that they can sense each other with it, and I could be right or wrong with that.  They can sense general power levels so I figure why not sense individuals and locations too?  Suffice to say, artistic licence has been utilised.

The senzu beans seem to come in bags with several inside from on-high, so I've manipulated it in a way that unused senzus are kept at Capsule Corp. as a sort of emergency supply.  Nothing else to say about this.

Tails and Super Saiyan Two.  Likely fudged but I've used m-preg as an excuse so you can't really come down hard on me for any mistakes here.

I know there's a hospital, but there's an infirmary at Capsule Corp. in this fic.  Don't be alarmed.

A/Ns: I've read a fair number of Vegeta m-pregs and wanted to try my hand at it, but also have a go at a far slower and more methodical pacing compared to what I've read and what I usually write.  So this is a bit ponderous but hopefully you won't be bored to tears.  The stars, as was pointed out, don't show up on ff.net, so '''''''''s will be used to break up scenes, Vegeta's POV, third person perspective and time, but sometimes they're just there to present a visual break that reflects something in the chapter.  Trunks is about thirteen in this and Bra is a toddler, although I have no real idea of what their age difference is.

As It Seems

By Borath

I used to hate the dark.  Or at least I'm quite sure I did.  I don't remember any specific nights as a child where I was afraid, or any events that would make me fear the absence of light –although I soon learnt that there was plenty to fear and to grow strong against.  There was just a generally pervading feeling that I used to hate it.

It's turned into something useful though.  The dark conceals and offers time for seeking one's own solace, something I certainly need tonight, needed for the last few nights.  You don't need sight to find someone in the dark though; that's why my ki is shoved down as much as it can be. 

Still, it's a starless and moonless night thanks to the clouds, I'm a good depth into the planet's crust at the bottom of this crevice and I've put pretty much a planet between myself and the one I have slipped from.  It isn't cowardice that has driven me to this; I will correct that right now.  It was a mixture of irritation, frustration and a general desire to sort out my own head before moving onto the considerably daunting task of doing the same to Kakarrot.

Not that he had the sense to just _let _me go as I had wished.  No, he had to play true to his infuriatingly sensitive and protective nature and confront me before I got a mile away from him.  I played true to my nature in turn, making doubly sure he didn't have enough sense to work that Instant Transport trick of his to catch up with me.  Then it was just a case of flying low, fast and as inconspicuously as possible.  Not an easy task with my dark temper demanding more of the same, but when night fell and I finally landed somewhere quiet it settled.

That was two days ago and it's not remaining as unobtrusive anymore.  I am no closer to a solution to my original predicament, although I have successfully found the humour in it.  Actually, my sleep-deprived and starved mind is finding more humour in it all than anything else.  After damning/scorching/blowing up everything around me I couldn't focus on the seriousness of it all for a little while.

I'm not thinking straight anymore.  Haven't done for most of today actually.  The deep ache of hunger that hasn't quelled in as long vocalises itself as I contemplate if it's just from staring at these same rocks for hours that has pushed my sanity too far.  Lack of food has a larger hand in it though.  I'll either have to hunt something and build a fire soon or fly back home.  Neither option really appeals.  Most of my muscles have gone stiff and standing let alone chasing something will be utter agony, and the woman is at home still.

The woman.  That's where the humour of all of this was first found.  She knew before me and although she's got nothing to do with it she's the only other person who knows.  All right, it's not hilarious, but it had made me smirk at the time.

Eight days ago I locked myself in my gravity room and put my body through its paces.  I demanded excellence from it, perfection as opposed to the weakness that was starting to creep in at the edges.  No one else had noticed, I'm sure, but for a few days my body hadn't been responding as it should have.  Every move felt sluggish, my mind struggling to focus and gravity seemingly changing its mind every few minutes leaving me disorientated and unbalanced, especially in the air when trying to throw energy blasts.

Like I did with Trunks, I wanted this weakness beaten out as quickly and efficiently as possible.  So I trained.  I trained harder and for longer than I had done in weeks, pride and determination shoving my body past its limits, which had –unbeknownst to me- already decreased over the last few weeks.

Eight days ago I started this gruelling act.  Four days ago the woman dragged me out of the chamber and took the opportunity to poke and prod me until I regained consciousness.  When that happened, she silently arranged me so that I was sat up against the wall, studied me for a few moments with her hands on her hips, and then put her hand across my face with far more strength than I thought she possessed.

Suffice to say it took a second to overcome my disbelief.  There are very few people that know me and would hit me anyway.  Those who do are either a close match to my own strength, stupid or have a death wish.  Combinations of the last two are the most enjoyable to beat back down.

However Bulma is neither my match, stupid (for a human at least) and despite appearances, she doesn't have a death wish either.  She was very angry.  And I had to admire her gall for striking me for it.

''''''''''

Shock quickly becoming surpassed by anger, Vegeta's already overwrought muscles tensed violently as his expression turned furious.  It hadn't hurt, but indignity and shock made the stinging very notable.  "What the Hell do you think you're doing?"

That tone would usually bring about an unconscious step back but not with Bulma, and certainly not now.  She's listened to this tone for years and it had lost most if not all of its effect.  Instead, she got even closer to her husband, her mouth a thin line and her scowl matching his.  In the hand that hadn't struck him was clutched a sheet of paper, thin with perforated edges and still warm from the printer.  She had half a mind to make him eat it, but gestured with it instead.

"How could you?" she screeched, almost growled.  "I put up with you, keep you, feed you, bear your children, and you do this!" 

The tone more than the words kept Vegeta silent.  There was clearly something he was missing here, namely what exactly 'this' was.  He found his composure over again and opened his mouth to yell back but Bulma dived in first.

"Who was it?"  Hysteria now.  She didn't want to know the answer and yet craved it at the same time.  Not that she would ever get it.  Getting that out of Vegeta would likely be similar to trying to squeeze an ocean with a perfectly developed ecosystem out of a rock, let alone blood.

"Who was good enough that the _great_ Vegeta actually submitted to them?" 

Vegeta found himself cringing a little then.  So she'd somehow found out about _that_.  'That' was a small incident between Goku and himself two days after Chichi's death several weeks ago.  He had been positive it hadn't gotten any further than the two of them, yet Bulma somehow knew that he'd gone behind her back and ended up in the submissive position to boot. 

He hadn't meant for it to happen, but if he were to be honest he had been prepared for it.  People did funny things in grief.  Seeking physical comfort of that nature was one of them.  Goku didn't seem particularly pleased with what had happened, and moreso the 'who' of it, but at the time Vegeta could plainly see that it was something needed.

It had started as a fight; a lot of their interactions did.  It got more brutal though; less energy and more physical.  It became more about pushing each other; straining and venting frustration and pain and denial on Goku's part.  Vegeta just relished the fight.

Then it mutated into something else, into becoming lost in the actions, the sensations, separating from the grief and just focussing on the present.  And that's when it got really violent.  Vegeta could have stopped what happened then, had several opportunities to and only contemplated it upon the first before dismissing it.  Saiyan instincts carried him onwards and the fight had already riled his senses more than enough. 

Neither had stayed afterwards, taking a moment to regain breath and senses before flying off in different directions, a mutual agreement silently in place that this was not to be spoken of.  Vegeta had taken off first.  He was the one that broke the connection.  Goku had risen to his feet and stared at him as if to say something, grasping for words he couldn't find, something to explain what had just happened.  Vegeta had stared back coolly before making things simple for both of them and rising into the air.  Goku followed suit seconds later.  The next time they spoke it was as if the event had been erased.

Yet Bulma knew of it.  But she hadn't mentioned Goku's name yet.  And she'd demanded to know 'who'.  Now Vegeta was quite confused.

She didn't give him a chance to speak.   "I shouldn't be surprised, with you being you.  But you have two children already and you can barely tolerate _them_.  What went through your head this time I'll never know," she exclaimed, her hands jumping into the air in exasperation before throwing the crumpled printout into his lap and storming towards the door.  The air was almost warm in her wake.

Blinking at the closed door, Vegeta found his gaze dropping to the paper on his thighs.  This seemed to have been what had set her off, so it would be judicious of him to read it.  Pulling apart the heavy creases as gently as possible so as not to shred it, Vegeta found that the page contained little but numbers and several words.  It didn't take much careful scrutinizing to reach the inevitable conclusion though.  He'd seen something similar before.

'''''''''''''

I hadn't thought much of the first datasheet I saw during the woman's pregnancy with Trunks.  I only bothered looking at it to learn the sex of the child, quietly satisfied to see that it would be male.  I wasn't disappointed to learn that Bra would be female, but a male heir to the throne was something that was already imprinted deeply on in my being.  I had to filter through a lot of information to get to that fact at the time though, meaning that I recognized the numbers and words instantly on this sheet the third time. 

Just small things, but they had explained my body's condition.  Changes in my blood and the like, clear indicators that I needed to eat more and train less.  These were not things that I embraced.

Bulma left me alone for the rest of the afternoon in the lab, her experiments and machines unattended throughout the night as well.  When I felt I could walk, I spent some time reading through the other printouts, spending hours steadily coalescing the data along with some hastily written notes about them until I fully understood what had happened.

It seems that this whole situation had arisen simply from life's uncanny ability to continue.  Kakarrot and I are, as far as I am aware, the only remaining full blooded Saiyans in the universe.  Our species is almost extinct.  Our bodies are capable of what to others seem to be miraculous feats; our strength is almost unparalleled.  Now, my body seems to have found a way of sustaining the Saiyan race without a female handy.  I can only assume that Goku is capable of the same thing.  It was just a twist of fate that I was the test subject.

Three weeks old and barely the size of my thumbnail, I had found myself carting around the next pure generation in my gut.  At the time of this discovery I had been most displeased.  When I made a good attempt to turn Kakarrot's head about on his shoulders I was still angry.  Now, sitting in a crack in the planet in need of food and sleep, I'm quite bemused. 

Looking back now, I should have realised that something was up when the morning after _that_ night I woke with a new tail idly slapping my thigh.  I hadn't thought too much of it at the time and hadn't considering connecting the two, despite the fact that it was anything but ordinary with the extended length of a good foot and ebony black fur that fluffed out into an odd little tuft at the end.  Then again, no one really said anything about it.

Kakarrot didn't know when I left and I'm quite certain that the woman didn't tell him.  The awkward standoff hours before I had finally left assured me of that much.  She had been preparing lunch for Trunks and Bra and had told me in as so many words that she would keep to her own business if I kept to mine.  Essentially, I was still a father here even if I was to become one with another, and she was still the mother of my existing children.  If I tried to do anything against that, there would be Hell to pay.  Not that I would.  Not that I have the energy to.

Not that I care.

The blanket of clouds visible between the sheer cliffs of earth breaks apart and a slither of moonlight finds it way to the ground to my right.  I sigh for no particular reason and begin to work the muscles in my legs, willing them back to life and shifting on the rock I have been sitting on for hours.  Aches and stings flare up everywhere but I persist.  I decided I'd return when the moon showed up again and it has done.  I had nothing else to use as an alarm.  Going back when I felt 'ready' would have meant never going back at all, so something more reliable had been required. 

It doesn't bother me that I return to the questions and consequences tonight.  It was going to happen in the end, and my mood is far more amiable now than when I left, so there's little reason to stay other than to avoid the confrontations.

After a few minutes I finally stand, a wave of dizziness accompanying the motion although I show no sign of it despite the fact that I am alone.  I am used to it now and it will likely stay for some time.  Yes, I decided that no harm would come to this child and that I would do whatever was necessary to keep it alive and raise is afterwards.  That was one of the first things I knew actually.  I knew it when I walked out of the lab.  It was the shock and complete lacking of choice in the matter that had caused my outburst and need to leave.

Flaring my ki experimentally, I am pleased to feel that it has not suffered as my body has.  I do not make any attempt to suppress it as I take to the air, flying at a comfortable speed over the rest of this continent towards the ocean.  I need not speak to Kakarrot of this as he will only make this even harder, although he well be the one to seek me out if I don't see him soon.  He will probably know that I am returning and confront me, demanding to know why I had attacked him and left just as violently.

And then, I don't know.  We'll see.  Knowing him though this whole ordeal will be as irritating as physically possible.  At least I haven't had morning sickness so far.

''''''''''''''

Apparently I should have returned home earlier than this, or at the very least eaten before now.  I'm not flying at a speed that could possibly be considered strenuous and yet small black spots are steadily filling my vision, my sight becoming tunnelled as they build into a more and more dense mass.  My limbs tremble and my head aches from the effort of staying airborne, my mind commanding my body to do as it is bid.  I can feel that it's going to stop listening quite soon.

It's only seconds later that I'm proved right.

I don't lose consciousness as I had expected.  I simply _fall_, my ki disappearing as if it was never there as my body decides that enough is enough and pulls the plug.  I'm most displeased.  At least I got within half a mile of Capsule Corp.

I only plummet a dozen or so meters before my fall is abruptly cut short, a strong hand grabbing the material at my back and pulling the fabric uncomfortably into my flesh.  Ordinarily I'd resist the aid, twisting sharply to break their hold and then relaying my thoughts with a few well-placed slams.  Not now though.  Instead, I let whoever is clutching my clothing lower us both to the ground, moisture from the grass instantly seeping through to my knees.  Dawn shouldn't be too far off.

The firm grasp releases and I watch as Piccolo comes about me, staring down at me from his admittedly impressive height.  His silence continues as I stand, glowering as I do so, and his expression becomes one of great scrutiny as he seemingly searches me, or more precisely my ki.  I don't bother suppressing it as pitiful as it already is right now although my tail twitches anxiously.

"Would you care to explain what that was about, or would you have me guess?" he asks smoothly, his arms crossed now and his head to one side.  That burning gaze is still sweeping over me, and there's a sinking feeling in my gut that he's going to find out soon.  I don't know why or how, but he'll see this.  My ki has kept it hidden quite effectively but with it so low now I can't see how he'll miss it.

In answer to his question, I sneer and tip my head back, my posture now more befitting of my title as I quickly scan my surroundings.  I know this area well.  It's a short walk back and if I kept my pace steady I could walk it quickly without suffering in my weakened condition.  So I begin to do just that.

Apparently I just needed to turn my back for my earlier prediction to come true.  There's a rush of air as he gasps slightly and then he approaches me again.  I keep walking, my eyes staring straight ahead.  My stomach is all but gnawing now for food and the ache is beyond uncomfortable.  My vision is normal now, but I have no desire to push my luck by flying again.

The Namek keeps the easy pace at my side.  "You're-"

I cut off his hushed words with a grunt.  I've only just acknowledged it to myself. I don't want to hear it aloud just yet.  Kami knows how Kakarrot is going to find out.  It's too wishful to hope that, if fate decides he must, he'll just _notice_ asPiccolo has; he's far too dense for that.  Perhaps I could just present it to him in five months and hope he sees the resemblance. 

But no, he'd be too persistent for me to be able to totally avoid him for that long.  A month I could get away with, two at a stretch and with great difficulty, but beyond that…  I have no real idea of how this child is going to affect my body but I can make a few educated guesses.  Obviously it's going to drain my energy quite effectively, throw off my center of balance when it's larger, and I can only imagine the fluctuations within my body I can look forward to.  ki has a certain tendency to be tied into mood and if my Saiyan equivalents of hormones start to play up, even the gravity room isn't going to contain me.

I cast a quick glance at the tall Namek and feel my mouth twitch in a grimace.  This is going to be a long few months, and apparently the aggravation is starting already.

Piccolo was silent after my non-verbal response to his last statement, obviously sensing that I'm really not in the mood, and rightly so.  He persists though, as I had wholly expected him to.  He's not going to leave me alone until he's satisfied, and there's no telling when that'll be.  He can desire a seemingly minimalist amount of information about some things and mull out the rest himself, but sometimes he wants every scrap and detail he can get his hands on.  I hope that in my case he'll be disposed towards the former, but I'm not that lucky.

''''''''''''

There were very few things left in the universe that could really surprise Piccolo.  He could remember the last time he'd been surprised and that was several years ago when a certain Kai had been pitted against him in a fighting tournament.  Before that he couldn't think of another instance that had left him feeling like the planet he was on had just vanished beneath his boots.  The sudden realisation that Vegeta was pregnant though…  That just took the cake.

And the Saiyan Prince wasn't making any effort to deny it.  Again, Piccolo was stunned.  Making use of the rare opportunity to really look at Vegeta –who seemed to be letting him as they walked- he saw and understood just why he could sense the child.  It was going to be powerful.  Very powerful.  It was already developing well from what he could sense, its own ki melting in with Vegeta's own quietly throbbing one. 

It was clear that the Saiyan was exhausted and half-starved but the Namek knew far better than to make any verbal observations of that sort.  He doubted Vegeta could take the strain of the ensuing fight.  No, for now he'd just question, as the smaller man didn't seem to have the strength to fend off those either.

"How did this happen?"

Vegeta smirked thinly.  "The usual way." At Piccolo's scowl he continued with a half shrug.  "Saiyan thing.  It shouldn't be surprising."  It was only subtly obvious that Vegeta was lying through his teeth.  Admitting that his body had suffered a mutation –especially of this kind- was not something he would do without a fight.

Piccolo frowned.  "I didn't know about it."

A sigh followed by a quiet, rumbling sound as his stomach voiced its empty state once again.  He really couldn't be bothered with this.  "The gene for it has likely been in place for generations but I doubt it would have been common knowledge."

Silence fell between them for the rest of the walk, Piccolo's thoughts a frenzy that found themselves dancing about a single question: 'Who was the other father?'  He had his suspicions, particularly based on recent events and the astonishing energy that the half-formed child was giving off now, which might have to be enough given Vegeta's disposition.  The Namek remained at the Saiyan's side all the way back to Capsule Corp., primarily out of curiosity but also out of a sudden rush of protectiveness that under any other circumstances would be absurd.  Vegeta was an accomplished fighter and more than capable of caring for himself.

However there was a deep and natural urge in the Namek to protect the weak and the young, and whilst Vegeta wasn't exactly weak right now, he was vulnerable and bearing a child.  He needed to be watched, covertly of course, but definitely watched. 

At the door now, Piccolo decided to throw caution to the wind before he lost his chance.  "May I ask-"

"No you may not," Vegeta cut in instantly as if reading his mind.  He turned away sharply and began making his way up the path to the front door, almost tasting the majority of the contents of the fridge.

Piccolo continued as if he had not been interrupted, recovering smoothly as he changed tact.  "Does he know?"

Vegeta paused with his hand raised to open the door, his back still on the other but his head slowly shifting so that he gazed back down the path with one onyx eye.  "Not yet.  I don't know if he should do."

That had been unexpected.  "Why not?  Are you not going to keep it?"  Piccolo doubted it before he had spoken.  The child was clearly well established and if Vegeta had wanted it disposed of he would have gone about it as soon as possible.

A firm glare and a fair number of the muscles in his exposed back clenched at that question.  "Of course I'm keeping it.  I will not destroy a pure blooded Saiyan of my own lineage."  Vegeta knew the second the words had left him that in his outrage at the thought of aborting the child he had just answered Piccolo's initial question regarding the second father, which was undoubtedly what it had been before he had altered it.

Piccolo's brows rose minutely.  'Pure blooded' had certainly confirmed his suspicions.  And Goku didn't even know yet.  This was certainly a difficult situation.  There had always been a long-standing rivalry between the two Saiyans and obviously this child's conception had been the result of one-off event, likely caused by the palpable grief left after Chichi's death.  Although the child's circumstances weren't exactly perfect, Vegeta already appeared to feel very strongly over it.  He couldn't quite be sure what Goku's reaction would be when he found out, although shock was likely going to be a key constituent.  He doubted he'd reject Vegeta or the child though.  It just wasn't in the man's nature.

Vegeta tore his gaze away from Piccolo deciding that he'd said more than enough for one night and that if he didn't eat and rest soon he'd likely collapse.  Tipping his head once stiffly, he let himself in and then took a second to lean against the closed door.  So, Piccolo knew both about the child and Goku, bringing the grand total of people in the loop up to three, none of which were the second father.  He'd have to start eating before he began laughing outright at the sheer absurdity of the whole damn thing.

'''''''''''''

This is ridiculous.  I don't eat for days, have flown hundreds of miles, am sustaining another life and I barely manage a fraction of what I usually constitute as a meal.  The food stock is hardly dented, but the warning swirl in my gut is strongly advising that I don't do anything to change it.  And I won't.  I _refuse_ to vomit; refuse to adhere to the side effects of this condition, even if I have to do it by sheer force of will.  The prince of Saiyans does _not_ get morning sickness.

Oh, but it's creeping in.  It's definitely morning now, the woman is in the lab and my son has not appeared to begin training –something I'm going to need to sort out swiftly- so it shan't be hard to slip upstairs and try to sleep off the feeling.  It'll also be a means by which to avoid people for at least part of the day; I really couldn't stomach another meeting with Piccolo just yet. 

Shoving my partially cleared plate in the general direction of the sink, I rise from the table and begin to make my way to my bedroom.  Passing Trunk's door, I pause and give it a hard slam with my fist.  "Up now Trunks, and I want you six pounds lighter from sweat by this evening!"  I'm satisfied by the flurry of movement I can hear from inside.  That should keep him out of my hair for a while.

Reaching my room, I take a few moments to rid myself of my boots and gloves and flew my suddenly cold fingers, rubbing the pads into my palms as I become used to the feeling of actual touch for a few moments.  The bed is too inviting to bother with a shower, and I haven't done anything strenuous so I don't particularly need one, so I drop down onto it without pause.  Instantly my energy seems to dissipate entirely but I'm too tired to care.  Working my way under the layers of sheets and blankets, I finally fall still by the sheer fact that my limbs have refused to move.  Closing my eyes and sighing irritably at the cold feeling in my gut, I fully relax and embrace the dreamscape.

'''''''''''''''

Vegeta didn't open his eyes immediately upon waking.  He never did.  It was a very old habit that he hadn't bothered trying to kick and would likely prove impossible to leave him should he ever try.  He didn't like to think of himself as paranoid by any means, but he was certainly on his guard a lot of the time.  Feigning sleep for a few minutes whilst he took in information with his other senses had been helpful in the past, even if whoever was there knew he was awake.  It simply let the world in slower and in more detail, allowing him to digest the sensory information at his own pace without being bombarded by it all at once.  One of the reasons he hated nightmares; he woke from those with a start, bolt upright and still half in it.  He'd never get used to it.

He hadn't dreamt of anything this time though.  No, it was the sound of voices that had awoken him today - or tonight, he couldn't tell.  Eyes still closed and breath low and steady, Vegeta quickly discerned that it was several voices in the room, all half a dozen feet off to his right side.  Bulma, Eighteen, Krillin and Goku.  It took a moment to arrest his voice and ki at that realisation.  Fortunately they were all in deep in conversation with each other, although the words were muffled even with his Saiyan hearing.

Vegeta could sense the tension in the room though, along with the individuals who weren't speaking.  Trunks was close to him, and with an internal groan he realised that Piccolo wasn't far off either.  It was starting to feel more and more like a circus in here.

The next thing that Vegeta took note of was that the bed he was now in was not the same as the one he had gone to sleep in.  This one was a lot firmer, narrower and stank of that medical odour that always accompanied hospitals.  Inhaling slowly through his nose, Vegeta did let his ki twitch as he realised that he'd been carted to the medical part of Capsule Corp. at some point whilst he was sleeping.  He couldn't get a minute's peace around here.

A prick of hunger ran through Vegeta's stomach and he frowned at it as he finally opened his eyes.  He'd eaten as much as his body would allow before sleeping.  Just how long had he been here?

Tipping his head to the side, away from the voices, he found Trunks perched on a stool at his bedside, watching his face with wide, concerned eyes.  When Vegeta said nothing for several seconds, the boy spoke in a hushed voice.  "Dad?  Are you all right?"

The voices hadn't broken off their furious triad behind them and Trunks seemed to be aware that they weren't going to any time soon.  "I'm fine," he assured firmly, his strong voice asserting as much.  His stomach clenched as he spoke though and Vegeta closed his eyes for a brief moment as the room tipped and rotated clockwise sharply.

"Lair," Piccolo stated gruffly from over Trunks' shoulder, staring down his nose at the smaller man.  Vegeta glared darkly but chose not to respond. 

"You've been asleep for three days, dad."  Vegeta noted idly that that explained the hunger pangs.  "You wouldn't wake up and we were getting worried," Trunks continued to inform him quietly, his eyes darting over to the four still debating before flashing back to his father.  "Mum won't say what's wrong with you, and Goku's getting really mad."

Vegeta nodded slightly in acknowledgement and quickly considered his options.  He could either continue to lie here like an invalid and wait to see what happened or he could get up and find some food.  It wasn't that hard a decision really.  Throwing off the sheet, Vegeta grimaced at the unnatural chill that came when he saw that he'd been stripped down to his boxers, but swung his legs over the side of the bed smoothly and rested his weight on them experimentally. 

The room seemed to have decided to stay put for now so he stood entirely, ignoring the fact that the voices had gone silent and striding past the collection of people with single-minded intent.  Naturally it was Goku who ignored Vegeta's body language, expression and ki, reaching out and grabbing his arm as he walked by him towards the door.  The look that he got at the action threatened his immediate safety in great detail, the tail about Vegeta's waist tightening unconsciously.

"Vegeta, I think it's best that you stay put for now.  You're not well, although _someone_ won't actually say _what_ it is that's wrong with you."  The usually gentle-natured Saiyan's sarcastic tone held steel at its edge as he turned his sights from the prince to Bulma.  The human simply huffed and put her hands on her hips, the picture of stubbornness.

For his part, Vegeta removed his arm from Goku's grip by means of wrenching it back and continued towards the door.  It seemed that Bulma was going to continue to be something of a distraction whilst he ransacked the fridge. 

A familiar presence appeared behind him and followed gradually closing distance as he traversed the corridors.  Perhaps not then.  Vegeta let Goku follow him, not seeing any reason to disallow it.  His ki was strong again, easily masking the child's life signature, and he didn't intend on changing things between himself and the other Saiyan.  Not now anyway.  No reason to complicate the situation even more than it already was.

He was actually quite surprised that Bulma still hadn't told anyone, but then she was probably as embarrassed as he'd initially been.  To have everyone learn that Vegeta had cheated on her was bad enough but to let them know that he was pregnant on top of it…  He was quite sure that he could safely assume that she would continue to keep her mouth shut about his little 'ailment'.

"So what is wrong with you?" Goku finally asked when the finally reached the kitchen, Vegeta heading straight for the fridge and ignoring the question in his quest for food.  The larger man's voice became notably gentler as he lowered himself into a seat at the table, his hands folding together on the worn surface.  "Is it serious?"

A pile of various meats balanced between one forearm and his chest, Vegeta closed the fridge with his free hand and placed the bowl of rice that he hadn't finished last time on the table and eyed the spread dubiously.  Once again, he found himself feeling half-starved yet nauseas at the same time.  Deciding to start on the rice, he plucked the chopsticks out of the bowl as he finally answered Goku.

"No."  He realised that he should have just outright denied any illness rather than saying that even as he spoke.  There was nothing for it now though, so he simply set about finishing the bowl of rice.  He ate slowly and deliberately, concentrating on the feeling in his stomach and throat as he swallowed.  He didn't want to find that he'd eaten too much in a Technicolor fashion in front of the other Saiyan. 

Goku noticed the unnaturally slow pace and it worried him immensely.  Vegeta's face was tinged pallid and he seemed to be concentrating stoically on swallowing, as if he feared he wouldn't keep the rice down unless he was careful.  "Are you sure?  You've not been well for days, and when you disappeared before then your ki was sickly."  He lent forward slightly, not really realising he had done so.  "You look different as well; you're posture's changed or something."

"And you'd know the ins and outs of my body well enough to judge all that, wouldn't you?"  Vegeta wasn't quite sure where that acidic remark had come from, but it had felt good to say it and it succeeding in silencing the other for a second as a surprised expression overtook his features.

Goku looked like he wanted to check about him for any of the others, to assure himself that they weren't being listened to, but he kept his gaze firmly on Vegeta's.  "I don't know why you're angry about that all of a sudden.  You haven't said anything until just now, and it seemed to be a mutual thing at the time."

He'd stopped eating now and his temper had flared suddenly, blood rushing past his ears as his brows dropped to frame his glare.  "Not that you'd remember it well.  You were so far gone in your _grief_ over that harpy of yours, I doubt you were even paying attention to what I was doing."

That had obviously stung and Vegeta smirked thinly.  It hadn't been like that, of course, but he was goading the other now, trying to make him angry enough to lash out verbally and leave him alone or to just storm off in general.  He didn't want Goku near him at the moment, not when the nausea was creeping back again after half a bowl of rice and he was feeling decidedly pitiful.  This was Goku's fault to a large degree and a corner of his mind, the bit that was smarting at the dent in his pride this whole baby thing had caused, was more than happy to place sole blame for this situation on him.

Goku wasn't playing though, his own eyes narrowing with barely disguised malice and his words sharp in their rebuttal.  "I remember you being face-down for most of it, so obviously I had been paying some attention."

Vegeta realised that he must have taken a temporary leave of his senses after that remark for next thing he knew he had straddled Goku on his back on the floor whilst still seated on the chair, his jugular between the fingers of his left hand and his right fist pulled back far behind him, the muscles taut and trembling as he held onto the aimed strike.  Breathing through his teeth, Vegeta found himself utterly unable to land the blow that he so desperately wanted to, something holding him back from hurting the other.  Each Saiyan stared at each other with an intensity that almost crackled, Goku also finding himself struggling with the urge not to physically retaliate.

A rush of footfalls from the doorway and then a weight landed uncomfortably on Vegeta's back.  The air rushed out of Goku from the suddenness of it, Vegeta twisting violently against the hand that had snapped across his collarbone and rested a thumb firmly over a pressure point there.  He found he had no trouble in flinging Krillin across the room and into the cupboards above the sink, watching with satisfaction as the smaller man dropped directly onto the tap before rolling down onto the floor.

He was back up on his feet within a second, but by then Vegeta had already gotten off of Goku and moved close enough to land a series of lightning-quick punches into Krillin's face.  The nausea increased tenfold with his sudden movements but he'd be damned if he let that hold him back.

"What on earth is going on in here?" Bulma suddenly demanded loudly from the doorway, staring in outrage at her disarrayed kitchen and at what seemed to be the start of a rather large fight.  "Get away from each other right now!"

Krillin still had his hand resting at the curve beneath Vegeta's sternum.  "He started it!"

Vegeta's snarled and directed an accusing hand at Goku who was still on the floor, although now in a squat having untangled himself from the chair.  "He incited me."

Bulma dived in before Goku could finish opening his mouth to pitch in his own contribution.  "I don't care who started it; I will not have fighting in this house.  Now all of you out, except for you," she ordered, pointing now at Vegeta with a matching glare.  "You stay right here."

Goku and Krillin complied, scowling as they did so, leaving Vegeta standing exactly as where he was as he crossed his arms and continued his level stare at the woman.  Bulma rounded the table and visually scanned him over, taking in the red marks that would not bruise and the light tremble of agitation that haunted his shoulders. 

"Just what were you thinking?" she finally hissed, disbelief replacing anger but leaving the outrage in her tone.  "You can't get into fights now, even if you are provoked.  I don't know if you realise it, but this is a dangerous situation you've somehow gotten yourself into, and I'm not going to let your thick headedness get you killed and leave me and the children alone."

She took a long breath, glancing away from Vegeta although her mouth remained a thin line.  "I'm even less happy with all of this than you are, but I'll be damned if I let you make an even bigger mess of it.  I've disowned this for the most part and short of keeping you healthy I'm not going to help you, so you'd better start taking some responsibility for your actions.

"And believe it or not, Goku came here worried about you.  He's your friend whether or not you want to see it, so you'd be wise to start accepting that, because he's going to find out about that baby and he's going to want to help even if it's none of his business.  That's what he's like.  So you'd better sort out that temper of yours around him before there's an explosion that even a senzu can't patch you up after."

Vegeta was quite sure she wasn't referring to any physical injuries he himself could sustain just then.  Staring at her mutely with an iron-control on the urge to shout back at her, he nodded once stiffly and looked away to the side.  This was already turning out to be more trouble than he'd expected.

Satisfied with his silence, Bulma's face softened marginally and her hands dropped from her hips.  "Now the reason you were asleep for so long is that you'd exhausted yourself.  Even before all this you never slept enough, so you need to start resting more and obviously training less."  At his incensed glare she merely raised a brow.  "I doubt you'll be in any condition to fight at all in a few months time, so you might as well accept that now."

Gesturing to the remarkably undisturbed collection of food on the table, she continued on with her tone firmly locked in 'lecture mode'.  "Also, you're going to have to start eating more to keep up with that child as well as your normal metabolism."

That struck a tender nerve and Vegeta threw out his hands in exasperation.  "Damnit woman! I've can't even stomach what I normally eat!"

Bulma looked unperturbed at his outburst, her tone almost patronizing.  Not completely though as this was still Vegeta in front of her, regardless or not of being his wife.  "Well then you're going to have to break it down, eating regularly and in small amounts."

Nodding sharply at his grumbling acquiescence, Bulma glanced at the downed chair pointedly before turning on her heel and striding back to her lab.  Even as a human she couldn't miss the heated glare that Vegeta bore into her shoulder blades as she left, and she smiled thinly to herself.  Carrying a demi-Saiyan had been nightmarish, the baby unnaturally strong before birth, and she couldn't help but feel some satisfaction at Vegeta's condition.  As she walked through the empty corridors, she mused to herself that this might teach him not to cross her behind her back.

'''''''''''''

Next chapter in a few days.  Please leave some sort of feedback, as I'd appreciate any and all responses.


	2. I can't seem to speak now

Chapter 2

By Borath

A/Ns: Thank you so much to Dj Silence Yuy, littlefox1227, Insane-Jack-of-clubs, Mina (I love your work!), Ice Maiden, Shadow Spirits (aw, you followed me ), Closet freak, Purple-Moonlight, and Me (looks mildly puzzled) for all the wonderful feedback! It's really great and I'm feeling very encouraged. ;; I'm not intending for this fic to be too long so there will only be about 7 chapters, although as you can see each chapter is going to be at least 10 pages, so the narrative will progress fairly quickly. I've explored m-preg so many times now that there's only so much I can do to keep myself interested here. ;;

Stars should have been replaced by commas now, and if that still doesn't work I'll figure out a new system.

Thanks again and I hope you like this instalment! Off to America on Saturday so no new chapters for a few weeks. Promise it'll be worth the wait though.

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I'm not too sure what exactly went through my head to get me to come down to her lab, but yesterday has left me with a foul taste in my mouth and confronting Bulma seemed, at the time of my brooding, to be a good step in sorting it out though. I've knocked twice -the fact that I didn't just barge in a large demonstration of my desire to make peace in itself- and she leaves me waiting for another minute before finally opening the door. She looks like she hasn't slept and her hair's a mess, but I always preferred her a bit rough about the edges.

"What is it Vegeta? I'm busy," she says as if dismissing me already. I'll have my say though even if it doesn't do anything. She just needs to hear so things can be less tense. I've died for my family before and I'll show the same consideration about this pregnancy.

"We need to talk, just for a few minutes." She eyes me, her expression guarded, before stepping aside and letting me in. I've never known quite where to put myself in this room and so opt to hover by the door after I close it. That way, when she does demand that I leave I won't have far to walk.

My surprise is physically obvious when Bulma stops striding away from me and turns sharply, speaking before I can get a chance to. "There's just one thing I want to know," she begins, and my head lowers minutely at it. I won't answer if she asks 'who'. That would create more problems than it solves. This family is so connected to the Sons a rift would probably turn into Armageddon. Then Kakarrot would start asking questions and that's the _last_ thing I need.

"How long were you sneaking behind my back? Behind this family's?" Strangely, she now looks more upset than angry. It makes my gut squirm and for the first time today the feeling isn't from nausea. I clamp down on the feeling. It isn't helping.

"I didn't. This was from one night that should never have happened and, aside from this, has amounted to nothing." There. That's about as honest and straightforward as I get. I didn't want to cause her this grief. If this little 'complication' hadn't come up, she never would have found out about that night between Kakarrot and myself. I would have protected her from it. I can save her from the brunt of the blow though.

She must have seen that I was being sincere as she nods once and puts her hands on her hips, staring at me studiously. She seems to weigh her words carefully and I can see their conviction even before she speaks them. "Just because it was a one-off doesn't mean I'm necessarily going to take you back." I understand that and hadn't really expected anything else. This isn't an apology that I've come here to make. "And this is all very difficult for me to accept, but I'm not going to leave you alone by any means. If what you say is true then without me you haven't got anyone to help you, and like it or not you _do_ need help."

Kami, this is sounding like some washy novel. It's disgustingly true though, but I brought it on myself and there are worse alternatives. Bulma carries on smoothly after a pause, probably for dramatic effect. "I want you to stay around here and show a bit of tact when Trunks and Bra start asking questions. I'll make sure things keep going smoothly and after that, well, we'll see."

I can tell that she's finished with me even though she says nothing of the sort. Tipping my head to her and shooting her a look of appreciation at how easy she's making this, I head back out of the lab. I hear the door lock after I close it and instantly walk away down the corridor. If she starts crying or something and I hear her it'll drive me insane. This is already hard enough without upsetting her. I cannot abort this child and I cannot abandon my family either, so some sort of compromise is going to have to be reached, even if it's not exactly amiable.

''''''''''''

Three weeks ago I would have deemed this pregnancy as uncomfortable and little else. It has been irritating, trying and with a fair amount of discomfort when it comes to food and moving quickly, but it has been tolerable. Now, at four months it has become painful. Not a sharp pain like that of a bone breaking or several tendons coming apart at once, but a dull roaring sensation that works relentlessly around my midsection every few hours and is almost crippling in duration and intensity.

The woman told me that the child is almost fully developed on a small scale now and thus all it's really going to do now is grow. Which means I have to make room for it. Which means organs that should not be moved are being shoved in various directions, the feeling very much like a sustained punch. My hips are far narrower than a woman's generally are so they too are beginning to widen marginally. Bulma says it won't be more than a centimetre or two difference, and for her sake she'd better be right.

At least none of this is immediately noticeable, the weight I've been gradually gaining replacing my muscle in appearance as my visits to the gravity room become more infrequent. The tail is a fairly obvious give-away but anyone who has eyed it for a moment before my glare warns them off seems to be attributing it to intense training and some intervention from unnamed sources. Alright, its appearance is in part due to an 'unnamed source', but the fact that it looks nothing like it should do would surely have given a hint that something has changed. Bunch of blockheaded idiots…

Right now I've laid it in the grass behind me, the pain in my midsection already infuriating enough without that added pressure. I haven't quite gotten used to it being about my waist yet either; the additional length meaning that the tip rests on the opposite side of my body to which it normally did, and it is very irritating. It does make a good whip now though as Trunks found out last week whilst I was experimenting with it. Ordinarily, my tail would be far too sensitive to even think of slapping it across the back of the boy's thighs, but the extra down and fluffed tip make good shields.

I left the boy and the woman early this morning, hoping that a few hours of undisturbed meditation would take the edge off the pain and make the changes my body is undergoing more bearable. For the most part is has worked, although my concentration was broken when something seemed to 'give' in the small of my back and the resulting feeling couldn't be meditated through. Damn you Kakarrot, and this child…

Resigning myself to a break whilst I mentally regroup, I put a hand to the offending area and begin kneading firmly, opening my eyes and squinting slightly in the bright sunlight. It looks to be about mid-afternoon judging from its position, but I have no intention of moving just yet. I notice a telltale glint in the distance to my right and exhale sharply with a frown. On second thoughts, perhaps I should just leave now.

I don't bother to stand as Piccolo lands a few feet away from me, resting my forearms on my knees and glaring up at him pointedly. He folds his arms and gives me a look that I can't quite place for a few seconds.

"Are you injured?"

After the shock at his apparent concern has passed, I wonder fleetingly why'd he be asking if I was in pain. At first I believe it to be an assessment based on my tense muscles but quickly realise that even with my mind calm during meditation my ki would still throb tellingly. I've never had to rely on my senses to tell if someone is in pain; blood, inserted weapons and missing body parts tend to be very good giveaways, so it had slipped my mind that it could be seen without obvious wounds.

My answer to his question is accompanied by a scowl, and I deliberately drop a patronizing lilt into my tone. "No." He raises a brow, silently pushing me for clarification. I go along with it with an idle hope that he's conveniently carrying some strong herbs or drugs on him right now. "My body is adapting to make space. Why should it concern you?"

Piccolo ignores my demand, lowering himself to the ground smoothly and mimicking my posture, sans tail. "It might go easier if you weren't so tense."

A horrifying image of him giving me a backrub springs into my mind and my expression darkens. "If you even think of touching me, I will destroy you, pregnancy or no."

He has the audacity to smirk at me before looking off to his left, my gaze following his as I sense the incoming presence. It's Kakarrot, I note to my dismay, and he's powered up to Super Saiyan. We both rise to our feet and watch him land beside us expectantly. He doesn't seem at all anxious though. That too-big grin is on his face as usual, and he immediately touches the back of his neck just as I'd predicted. For the umpteenth time I find myself astonished that _this_ is the other father of the child I'm carrying. Some measure of self-disgust worms around with said astonishment.

"Kakarrot," I fairly spit, my tail writhing as I forcefully keep it away from my waist and off the ground. "Why are you Super Saiyan?"

He shrugs and I chew down the urge to punch him, which is oddly conflicted with that other urge that still refuses to allow me to harm him. "Just something to do." I can't decide if I imagined Piccolo's sigh or not, but mine is definitely real. "Hey, the kids are practicing a little way from here. Wanna watch?"

"I think not," the Namek replies smoothly, giving me an odd look for some unknown reason. "Perhaps another time." Then, with another 'I've got my eye on you and you know it' look at me, he takes to the air once again, leaving the Fool and me alone. I turn my gaze back to Kakarrot, his insufferable smile still merrily in place.

"Well Vegeta? How about it?"

The eagerness there is pitiful and I would decline the invitation just to spite that. But I believe I can consider my meditating done for today and watching the boys, no matter how tedious, would perhaps be marginally distracting from my body's rebellion. I nod with a sound in my throat, rolling my eyes as Kakarrot all but jumps before leaving the ground and leading the way.

My jaw is tight throughout the two-mile flight, flying even more uncomfortable than walking at the moment and flying fast with a clueless idiot is twice as bad. I can only expect it to get worse from here, too. At least Saiyan pregnancies are only seven months long, although I have no way of knowing if it will be the same with me being man. Given that I've only recently begun to 'show' it could be longer, or it could be that this child is simply going to be born small. I'd much prefer the latter.

I cannot hide my sharp intake of breath when landing, the pain that had been surging lancing suddenly up and down my spine into my skull and through to the tip of my tail. The appendage stiffens at it and I see Kakarrot giving me a concerned look out of the corner of my eye.

"Are you still sick Vegeta? You're sure it isn't serious?" he asks quietly, his voice only audible over the sounds of mock fighting nearby thanks to my Saiyan hearing. There is great sincerity in his voice that matches his face and I feel something clench in my chest, the feeling unsettling and alien.

"It isn't," I respond, weighing my words internally. He has a knack for seeing deceit and he wouldn't miss any even with my carefully composed features this close. "It's a temporary affliction. Time will take care of it." That isn't a lie; it _is_ only temporary, and pretty much left to its own devices, time _will_ take care of it.

Kakarrot accepts it as truth, nodding slowly and steadily turning his head to watch his youngest son and my own. "Alright, but just remember; if you need anything, I'll be around."

I continue to stare at him for a few moments before feigning some interest in the display a dozen yards away in midair. This isn't the first time that Kakarrot has been like this towards me in the last few weeks, and I find myself idly wondering if he knows. He can't though, simply because no one who does know would tell him and he hasn't approached me about it specifically, which he would undoubtedly have done by now if he did know. Perhaps after his harpy's death he simply sees me as some new project just because of one night four months ago. My tail winds about my thigh in a constricting grip at the thought of such attention.

The fight suddenly breaks off and Goten comes barrelling at Kakarrot in a bundle of energy, attaching himself to his father's chest with a laugh. A year older and, more importantly, _my _son, Trunks touches down just in front of me with far more restraint, smiling up at me with his sweaty bangs partially obscuring his vision. I reach out a gloved hand and pull the hairs immediately over his eyes to the sides, ignoring his surprised expression.

"Time for a haircut, son," I tell him. My hand comes down from his forehead to touch his chin, tilting his head back a little and displaying his face clearly. I cannot help but wonder what my third child will look like; if it'll be any similar to either of my existing children or if Kakarrot's genes will squash any great resemblance. My thumb mindlessly starts smoothing over the soft flesh of my son's cheek. It will be taught to take pride in its Saiyan heritage unlike Kakarrot; that I can be sure of.

Releasing the boy's chin when I realize that I've held it for a good minute, I glance to my side and see that Kakarrot and his brat are both watching me with seeming fascination. I sneer at them before looking back at Trunks and motioning with my head to the sky. "Show me what you can do, then."

He nods as Goten drops down to his side, each exchanging a look before walking away from us. Trunks glances back over his shoulder at me and gives a nervous smile that I do not return before smartly taking off, sweeping about the other boy immediately and raising his fists. Diving down with his right hand pulled back in a punch, I smile as he instead sends his left knee sharply into his opponent's exposed side.

I must admit that the last few minutes have been fairly distracting, the pain finally settling down to a dull ache that is easily ignored. My tail unwinds from about my arm and settles behind me, a good few inches of the limb resting easily in the grass and again I marvel at the unnatural length. I idly hope that it remains when this is all over.

What can only be described as a sudden jab inside my gut tears me out from my peaceful reverie and I find my knees weakening from the unexpectedness of it, the force pummelling into my already abused intestinal tract with small but noticeable strength. It comes again a second later in the exact same space and it only now occurs to me that it's _kicking_. The sudden, dawning realisation that something alive is moving inside me is enough to make me light-headed, and I allow myself to drop to one knee to prevent myself from passing out.

The kids don't notice, but Kakarrot is kneeling beside me instantly, a hand on my back and his face close to mine as his studies me worriedly. I feel distinctly faint, however I am far more focussed on the child right now, waiting to see if it will move again. After a minute I realise that it will not, although I will prepare myself better for when it happens again. I do not want to be caught off-guard like this in the future.

No longer intent on the feeling, I become aware of a warmness spreading through my body that is gently easing my muscles and sending a slight tingle across my skin. This sensation, I now realize, originates from where Kakarrot's hand is touching and I automatically stiffen against the feeling. It is his presence that soothes me, and it is he who is half of this small miracle that just tried to punch a hole through my gut. The reason why I haven't been able to lay a threatening finger on him suddenly drops into place with these other realisations: my body has imprinted him as my _mate_. The thought is abhorrent enough to make me quietly groan aloud although it makes perfect sense. This has all just become an awful lot more complicated.

"Vegeta, are you okay?" I shake my head, my eyes staring at nothing but more importantly, not looking at _him_. "Does it hurt?"

'Does it hurt'? He is a third class idiot who ascended before me, has always been more powerful than me, has saved my life, managed to get me beneath him on one occasion that shouldn't have happened and has been dubbed by my body and this baby as my mate.

"Yes," I finally bite out, still refusing to look at him as I drop to both knees and rest my weight on my haunches. It moves again and my hand shifts onto my stomach, my face pulled into a grimace that is not of pain. "Yes, it hurts."

''''''''''''''

Unable to do any hard training now thanks to the baby's habit of bouts of intense movement whenever he did anything strenuous, Vegeta found himself with little to do. Eighty percent of his time had been spent training a few months ago, and now that he'd grudgingly packed it in with the belief that _relaxed_ training wasn't _real_ training, and thus pointless, he now spent many hours quite bored.

Putting Trunks through his paces wasn't particularly demanding but he found he could only spend a few hours with him at a time before general frustration at the universe and everything in it made him too short-tempered to carry on. The same went for Bra, although her younger age meant that her activities were almost totally inane and so he could barely stomach half the time with her. Kakarrot seemed to be attempting to distract him whilst he recovered from his 'illness' by engaging him in conversation, something that caused more irritation than it relieved, and so Vegeta had taken to reading.

Today, Vegeta had flown the short distance into the mountains with a thick, black-covered book and settled himself on the edge of a clearing beneath a tree intent on spending the day alone. The child had been moving intermittently all morning but now, just after noon, it went into something of a frenzy, kicking sharply every ten seconds or so in almost the same area. Giving up on his book -a personal account by an old general about the many battles he had served in- whilst it was so active, he set it aside in the grass and placed his hands on his stomach.

It kicked again into his right palm and a muscle at Vegeta's eye twitched, his fingers now beginning to move in smooth, circular motions in an attempt to sooth the obviously agitated child. It was clear that it was a full-blood Saiyan already, the strength it possessed already far greater than a normal baby's. It was little wonder why he was so uncomfortable.

The massage seemed to work and Vegeta leant back against the thick tree trunk tiredly, sighing when a pang of hunger struck him. Opening the small satchel he'd brought with him, he took out one of the four rice balls and chewed on it thoughtfully. As he'd expected, a wave of nausea struck him moments later, though he ignored it and continued to eat. He found he could manage it if he ate in very small amounts eight or nine times a day, but he was on the verge of praying that it would go soon. Not only was it profoundly irritating, but he was also only gaining a small amount of weight about his stomach, his face thinning and the protrusions at his elbows and knees now more pronounced.

Finishing the second rice ball and deciding against the third when his stomach clenched pitifully, Vegeta picked it up his book and resumed reading. His ki was held down to a remarkably low level, something that he'd gotten very good at now and had almost become second nature as he sought solitude away from Goku. He made sure that it went no lower than the child's, which he had no control over, as then he would have lost the ability to disguise the second ki with his own.

He was just starting a chapter that detailed a storming formation that Vegeta was mildly impressed with when he felt a great surge of energy heading in his direction. Looking up and seeing that it was, in fact, heading straight towards him, he threw the book and satchel as far as he could and took off into the air, flying quickly to the side and then sweeping up to gain height. His stomach lurched and told him that if he pushed it he'd be seeing those rice balls again shortly.

The energy ball smashed into the trees he'd just been sitting amongst and carried on, churning out and incinerating a deep trough in the woods. It hadn't been a particularly powerful blast but it definitely would have hurt. Vegeta pivoted in the air to face where it had come from, a growl already forming in his throat. He had wanted to be left _alone _today.

Two figures were flying towards him now; their ki's blazing as both were at Super Saiyan, and Vegeta felt the strong urge to power up. He was fuming, and the closer the two got to him the angrier he became. His tail, formerly wrapped about his forearm, was now doing an erratic dance in the air, whipping sharply in the wind. Goku and Gohan had the sense to stop a short distance from him, although Goku was slightly closer.

"Sorry about that Vegeta; we didn't know you were down there. I messed up deflecting one of dad's blasts," Gohan explain hurriedly, not liking the murderous look in the Saiyan's eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Am I alright?" Vegeta repeated quietly, almost too quietly for them to hear. When he said it again, it was in a loud, resounding roar that accompanied his ki flaring enormously about him. Still bellowing, he didn't stop at Super Saiyan as his energy spiral dizzily out of his own control, heeding to his fury faster and more powerfully than ever before. His now blond hair grew longer, new tufts exploding out down his back and ending at his tail, although the black tip of that had changed as well. The fur there was longer and stiff and bristled instead of soft and downy, promising a nasty sting should it strike.

Gohan flew a few yards back out of the way though Goku remained where he was, rooted in shock and some measure of awe. He'd never seen Vegeta power up that quickly before, and the energies that buffeted him told him that he was now the inferior. That surprised him, and given this temperamental outburst, unnerved him as well. He and Gohan even working together would be hard put to stop Vegeta if this turned into a small rampage.

"I was not here expecting to have to dive away from energy blasts!" Vegeta shouted above the spit and roar of power about him, red and blue streaks lacing wildly with each intensified word. "What the Hell were you thinking? With your obvious incompetence you should be practicing as far away from civilisation as possible, not two miles!"

Gohan swallowed heavily at the reprimand, his eyes wide as he remained frozen under Vegeta's blazing glare. He was rapidly overheating from the power the smaller man was exerting but he didn't dare move. The Saiyan prince clearly was not done with him.

Anger increasing tenfold at the lack of response in the young demi, Vegeta growled again. The young man had shown nothing but embarrassment over his ineptitude when he should be feeling shame over the abuse of his proud Saiyan lineage. He should be berating himself and then doing it over until he got it _right_. 'But no', Vegeta repeated internally, trembling from the intensity of what felt like a very personal insult. 'He just feels _embarrassed_'.

The energy around him flared in intensity and size again, and Vegeta howled with it, bearing down on Gohen once more. "The humans have made you weak, _child_. You'd do well to remember and respect where that power has come from."

"Alright, that's enough Vegeta," Goku broke in, still unsure as to how to approach this. He couldn't fight the other Saiyan whilst he was fuming like this, not to mention the fact that he was obviously still ill. He knew Vegeta's temper and it shouldn't have taken him this far over something like this. The worst they should have received was some snide remark before he shot off. This was totally unexpected and with Vegeta's weakened body he didn't know how long it would take before he burnt out from such an overload.

Not yet though, as Vegeta twisted violently to face Goku, his voice taking on a distinct hissing quality that was amplified by the thrumming power running through and about him. "As for you Kakarrot, I would have expected more of you. You know your son's pitiful shortcomings and yet you still expect him to safely deflect an energy blast that could have wiped out a village."

Goku's reply was low and clipped, his eyes hard as he stared at Vegeta, looking for an opportunity to end this before it got any worse. He needed some sort of opening, some way to get to him. "I had it under control."

"Ha! It looked quite out of control when it came barrelling at me, Kakarrot."

Gohen had been watching his father stare at Vegeta and it had just clicked as to what he was waiting for. Taking a breath, he waved his arms above his head to get the other Saiyan's attention. "Hey Vegeta, leave my dad alone. I'm the one you should be shouting at, not him. He didn't do anything wrong."

A look of snarling amusement twisting his mouth, Vegeta turned back to Gohan. Goku smiled grimly and prepared himself to phase out. This would take finesse. It looked like his son had succeeded in distracting Vegeta for a moment. "He was as much at fault as you, although I'm beginning to see that such incompetence might be hereditary."

Inside a second, Goku took his chance to phase out and then reappear at Vegeta's back. He had aimed to get as close as possible so that the other wouldn't be able to move against him immediately and had succeeded, his chest smothered in the thick hair running down the prince's back. Not wasting a moment, he got both of his arms beneath Vegeta's and locked his wrists behind the thick neck, ignoring the stinging in his back as the tail whipped him.

The bristled tail snapped around once again and smashed into the small of Goku's back as Vegeta jerked violently and attempted to wrench out of the larger man's grip. His power jumping impossibly, he yelled as his mind felt it would be burnt from the sheer magnitude of it. Before now he had been struggling to keep it relatively in check but now it flooded his very pores. The flaring had succeeding in shoving Goku away from him -and Gohen for that matter- but it had also left him feeling extremely dizzy and tired.

Blackness invading sight that was already dazzled by the bright light of his own power, Vegeta felt the hair along his back shrink away and his tail return to normal. His muscles bunched painfully before decreasing as well and a bitter chill swept over his sweat-soaked skin when his ki dwindled and finally vanished. Then the blackness was complete and he felt an odd sense of floating before he knew no more.

''''''''''''''''''

Gohan had been closer when Vegeta started to fall, darting down and catching the smaller man easily, shifting his weight against himself awkwardly. Looking up to Goku for further instruction, he watched as his father lowered himself until they were eyelevel. The front of the man's Gi was burnt and shredded, caused by the last burst of energy that Vegeta had given off, and a thin trickle of blood seeped from his back from where the whip-like tail had managed to break his skin.

Taking in Vegeta's grey and damp skin, Goku drifted forward and touched the prince's forehead before sweeping his hand down to his throat. He was cool and his pulse weak and thready, signs of utter exhaustion. "Come on, let's get him back to Capsule Corp." He then reached out a hand for his son's shoulder before bringing his other to his head, concentrating.

Once they appeared in what had been unofficially dubbed as the infirmary, Gohan lay Vegeta down on one of the beds and carefully placed the limp tail onto the mattress whilst his father sought out Bulma. He found her in the corridor outside having already known they were here, following her to Vegeta's side as her mouth became an even narrower line.

"Why is it that the only times he ever comes in here are when he's unconscious?" she demanded aloud although the statement wasn't directed at anyone in particular. Lifting his eyelids and producing a torch, she flicked the light into each pupil before clicking the instrument off. "What happened this time?"

Gohan began to explain haltingly as Goku picked up a wad of dressings and began to dab at the blood on his back. "Well, dad and I were training and I misdirected one of his energy blasts and as far as we know it went straight at Vegeta. He got really mad and powered up way faster and way more than we've ever seen."

"I've never seen him like that before, Bulma. He could barely control his own power, and then he passed out," Goku added in a steadier voice, eyeing the soiled dressings and putting them to one side. The burns on his chest were beginning to make his skin stiffen and the pain was very distracting.

Bulma nodded absently, almost finished with her cursory examination of Vegeta to make sure that nothing was broken or bleeding internally. She needed to examine the baby now as there was a good chance that the shock and power could have dislodged it or done something equally damaging, but with Goku and Gohan present she was hesitant. Thinking, she glanced at the Saiyan and noticed his burns for the first time. "The senzu beans are in that cupboard behind you. Take one of the small ones though; those burns aren't too bad."

Goku did as he was bid and then held out a larger bean, intending to give it to Vegeta and massage it down his throat. Bulma shook her head though as she bustled around for a certain piece of equipment. Finding it, she placed the small instrument on the tray table. "I'd rather not have him taking one of those if I can help it. I'm not sure what it'll do given his… condition."

That was true. The senzu beans returned the body to normal. What if they decided that the pregnancy wasn't normal and treated it like a virus, purging it violently? She wasn't sure that Vegeta could handle that and she didn't want to risk it. But then, she didn't want to risk him losing the baby for the sake of secrecy either. Deciding to conduct the examination properly despite the other men's presence, her hands returned to her husband's face.

Staring at the human woman incredulously, Goku clenched his fist about the bean. "Bulma, enough is enough. What's wrong with him?" he demanded, finally at the end of his extraordinarily long tether.

Bulma didn't look up from where she was gently touching at Vegeta's throat, pressing her fingers beneath his jaw and slowly working down his hidden lymph nodes at the sides of his throat. Her words were clipped and firm, making it very clear that she was being quite serious. "He's pregnant."

There was silence for half a second before Gohan's exclamation of 'what?!', Goku eyes wide and unbelieving as he looked from Bulma to his unconscious friend. Not so unconscious though, as when Bulma's hands moved towards his stomach Vegeta shifted onto his side and curled in slightly on himself, his arms wrapped tightly around his midsection. He showed no signs of waking, his face just as relaxed and motionless as before.

Putting a hand about a large wrist, Bulma tugged experimentally before cursing under her breath when his arm didn't move. Continuing as if neither of the other men were there, she picked up a small oval instrument the size of her hand from the tray-table by the bed and contemplated whether or not she could use it despite the physical shield that Vegeta had put up. She was certain though that it wouldn't work; Vegeta's muscles were large and his body was quite small, meaning that he was able to block the soft curve of his stomach quite effectively.

Goku finally regained the ability to speak, although Gohan was still gawking outright. "How's that possible?" he asked slowly, approaching the bed now and scanning his eyes over the tense form upon it. Now that he really looked, with Vegeta's ki quietly simmering the second, smaller ki was almost obvious.

"It wasn't the result of some weird experiment, if that's what you're asking," Bulma snapped with a glare, touching the muscles along her husband's spine now. "As far as I'm aware, this is a completely natural thing."

Frowning as comprehension begun to creep in, Goku felt he had to ask his next question. "It's not yours?"

That had felt like an insult on a strange level to Bulma and her voice conveyed as much. "Do you see me carrying it? No, it's not mine." Sighing resignedly, she forced herself to focus on the current situation and not older bitterness, directing her mind to the 'how' and not the 'why'.

"I'm not completely sure what's happened to make this possible, but I think that the ability was always there. I don't know when it became active, but Vegeta thinks that it's some sort of mutation based off the fact that there are almost no Saiyans left in the universe. You might be able to do the same thing, so be careful in the future," she added, looking up through her fringe at Goku thoughtfully as she spoke. Goku remained totally impassive.

Bulma finally gave up trying to find a way to manoeuvre the instrument through Vegeta's arms and now tried to think of a way to pry the limbs away. She reached out both hands for one wrist and got a firm grip to try and at least move his arm, but a sharp _'crack'_ and a burning pain in her wrist made her jerk back. The long black tail undulated in the air warningly for a moment before dropping back about Vegeta's thigh, Bulma nursing the rising welt in her skin as she watched it.

"Alright, you two might as well give me a hand. I need to check the baby so you two are going to have to hold him down for me," she directed, glancing at Gohan pointedly before stepping back to give them room. The eldest Son obediently came forward to stand opposite his father but seemed hesitant to act.

Seeing this, Goku made the first move and placed a hand on Vegeta's thigh and the other about one wrist. The tail snacked up again, but he snatched it down and held it against a muscled leg. Vegeta jerked at that but didn't awaken. "Alright Gohan, I need you to hold down the other side of his body whilst I roll him away from you. He'll struggle so make sure you have a good grip but try not to hurt him," he said firmly, tightening his own hands. The tail writhed desperately, trapped between his palm and Vegeta's thigh. He knew better than to let it go though as it would undoubtedly go for his face.

Nodding quickly, Gohan did as he was bid and used his weight as well as his strength to hold Vegeta down. Seeing that his son was ready, Goku took a breath and, as gently as he could, manoeuvred Vegeta onto his back and pulled his left arm down flat onto the bed as Gohan did the same. As predicted Vegeta strained against them both, veins and tendons pulling up taut beneath his skin and his tail jerking more urgently than before. With some surprise, Goku found himself almost struggling to keep the smaller man down.

Bulma made full use of the opportunity and jerked up Vegeta's top with one hand, smearing the globule of gel on her fingers across his flesh with the other. Picking up the oval-shaped instrument again, she ran its flat surface over the gel and looked up at the computer screen across the room. An image flickered to life on the display, and pressing a button on the scanner, Bulma listened to the rapid beating sound that came from the computer's speakers.

"Bulma," Goku breathed, his own eyes on the screen as he continued to hold down Vegeta. He and Gohan wore matching expressions although the older Saiyan's was tinged with thoughtfulness. "Who's the other father?"

The baby seemed fine but Bulma wasn't happy with the umbilical cord. It looked like it was twisted about the child, but it could just as well have been the angle. "I don't know," she answered quickly, moving the scanner about to Vegeta's side.

"Bulma!" he yelled angrily, exasperation and concern flooding his voice. His hand had tightened about the velvety tail and Vegeta's grunt of pain was barely enough to make him relax his grip. Goku wasn't so ignorant that he didn't realise that there was a good chance that this baby was his. But then Vegeta could have other partners that none of them knew about. He couldn't be sure until he asked the other Saiyan, and he wanted to know.

"I said I don't know!" the human women shouted back just as forcefully, slamming the scanner down and tearing out a paper towel from the dispenser. "He hasn't told me and the only way I could find out would be to run a paternity test when it's born, so you'll just have to ask him yourself." Wiping the towel quickly over Vegeta's stomach to clear off most of the gel, she stepped away again as a silent signal that they could let go now.

"Don't worry, I will," Goku grumbled under his breath as he finally released the struggling figure and brought his hands to his sides. Gohan did the same, and Vegeta returned to his earlier position on his side, his tail now agitatedly thumping the bed without pause. "Is there anything else you need to do with him now?"

Bulma shook her head, suddenly looking very tired. She was relieved that her initial thoughts about the cord had been wrong, and that everything looked completely fine on the scan and Vegeta didn't seem to have hurt himself, but then she had no other part in this than to just check us such. This wasn't their child. This was someone else's. The thought of that still made her very uneasy.

Goku was still thrumming with agitation as he strode to another narrow bed a few feet away, leaning against it as if intending to remain for quite some time. "Good. I want to be here when he wakes up so I can talk to him about all this." Looking to Gohan, his tone turned gentler. "Son, go find your brother and take him home. I should be back in a few hours. Dinner's in the fridge."

Gohan nodded and went to leave but Bulma's voice stopped him mid-step. "No, everyone can stay here this evening. It's been a long day and there's plenty of food because _he's _not eating properly," she stated, pointing at Vegeta without looking. "There's no reason you should all leave. I'm sure Trunks and Bra would appreciate the company."

The large Saiyan appeared a little overwhelmed for a moment before raising a hand to decline the generous offer. Bulma was a step ahead of him though, walking towards Gohan and taking his arm before marching him out of the lab. "Come on Gohan, let's go find the boys. They're both probably a complete mess and I'll need your help with dinner."

"Bulma," Goku caught her, moments before they reached the door. She looked back at him silently, raising a brow with her hand still about Gohan's arm. "Did you see what it was?"

She nodded, not taking her eyes off of his. "A boy. He's smaller than I think he should be and if Vegeta doesn't start eating more soon I'll have to put him on intravenous, so if you could get that through his skull when he wakes up, I'd appreciate it." Tugging at Gohan's arm, she continued to lead him out of the door, which shut quietly behind them.

Alone with Vegeta now, Goku simply stood in silence for a few minutes before pulling one of the bench stools beside the bed and perching himself on it. Vegeta's tail lashed out at him but he caught it easily, holding it gently and running his thumb through the thick fur at the tip thoughtfully. The limb fell slack instantly and the body it was attached to seemed to relax marginally as well. Goku noted both absently, his thoughts whirling about the last few minutes. There was a lot to be discussed when Vegeta finally awoke, and he wasn't sure it was going to be a pleasant experience. Indeed, he had no idea what would happen.

''''''''''''

(Raises hands) And feedback... (Bows deeply)


	3. My words won't come out right

Finally finished this one, although I'm not entirely happy with it. The plot is progressing very quickly, but I suppose that's a good thing as I don't intend this series to be very long. So, don't complain about things being rushed: I'm aware and feel the same way. ;;

Characterizations may be a bit off, but it's not like I have a lot in the series to use as a comparison so my speculations will have to do. Have done my best and it isn't terrible. Or it could just be that in my jetlagged state I've turned into a bit of a perfectionist. ;;

Regarding reviewer responses, I would spend a good paragraph on each person, but is getting pissy and overbearing again, so I cannot. Still, I extend a big thanks to:

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Cold Paws (thanks for the compliemt. Get bored with one perspective in most fics, so the transitions are fluid from sheer practice ;;), **Insane-Jack-of-Clubs **(happy to mention names. Good enough to review me so you're good enough to get thanked publicly), **Anonymous **(long chapters in favour of a dozen little ones. I prefer this I think), **ShadowSpirits **(the beginning of this chapter isn't too interesting, I'm afraid. More me pissing around with different reactions within the m-preg category, and testing out this reaction in this fandom. ;),

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GutterBall (very high praise indeed from you, and I'm very flattered for it. Turns romance in the end, I'm afraid; it felt natural to go that way. Hopefully I've done it in a way that keeps it interesting), **CharcoalCat **(Thanks for pointing out the mistakes. Will tweak. The thing about Vegeta's body going against his mind is one of the key plot-points for this fic, so well done for spotting it and do keep an eye out for it. Don't get too excited about Piccolo's involvement; I just quite like the character and want to write him where I can), **Ice Maiden **(Discussion between Goku and Vegeta is oddly paced rather than heated. Hopefully I pulled it off. If not, I'll learn from the responses I get),

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Purple-Moonlight (Thanks for the nitpicks, and the compliment. Hopefully this chapter is better than the last), **ClosetFreak** (Am finding Vegeta's POV quite easy to write in, personally. Reckoned it was because I was doing it wrong, but apparently it's just because I've written Yami Bakura in YuGiOh so often. ;; Yeah, it's a boy, and I'm starting to squirm over all the hype this confrontation has generated. Fear of an anticlimax is strong), **Sandalino Silvio Leif** (Glad you liked, and it is thus continued, as a few other's fic's expense I should add) and **DJ Silence Yuy **((Pets) Aw, another familiar. I feel loved. Hope this was worth the wait, and America was a blast).

On a final note, I should also add that this chapter was hugely influenced by my growing love of fluff. Coo accordingly.

Chapter 3

I can't make this a habit. It's the same smell and the same bed and they're both as irritating as they were last time. An ache seems to run through every muscle I have and I haven't felt this drained in a while. I remember what caused me to get into this position and smile thinly to myself. The look on Kakarrot's face had been utterly priceless.

Just as I'm about the start worrying about the stillness in my gut, the child kicks sharply and I drag a hand across to lie over the spot, opening my eyes as I do so. Glancing about myself, I find myself almost choking on the air I'm breathing when Kakarrot's face appears inches from mine. I refuse to let him intimidate me and sit up, my arm trembling from the effort. He leans away to let me although his gaze remains just as piercing. This is not an expression I've seen on him often, and it's deeply unsettling.

The silence between us drags out and through sheer exasperation I am the one to break it. "What?"

"It's a boy," he tells me flatly, much to my amazement, before rising from the stool and sitting at the end of my bed, still watching me the entire time. "Now tell me, Vegeta, is it my son as well as yours? Or is it someone else's?"

I'm going to kill Bulma. Or Piccolo. Whichever one of those blasted creatures told him is going to die slowly and painfully. I can feel my mouth twitch and I struggle to keep my features passively in place. It kicks again and this time it appears that he can tell, his eyes roaming from mine down to my hand on my stomach. He looks as if to place his hand over my own. If he touches me, I will make him regret it.

Instead, he catches me by surprise by sighing, a hand scrubbing through his hair before resting on the back of his neck, his eyes returning to mine. His body drains of tension and his eyes no longer hold that intensity that they had a second ago. "Please, Vegeta, I won't get angry. I just need to know."

I look into those large eyes of his, eyes I've only ever seen things worth pitying and hating for years, eyes that belay a soft spirit and a lack of pride in his heritage. And now I see nervousness, compassion and… eagerness? It has come to the crunch and it is here that I must make my decision. I will continue with this pregnancy with or without his blessing, although it isn't in his nature to do anything but encourage a new life.

I don't think he would want to change our relationship with this knowledge, and he might even have had the brains to put two and two together and realise that the knowledge that I am bearing his offspring would not be welcomed. There's really no reason not to give an honest answer. He would find out the truth in the end anyway even if I did lie. The universe just has an infuriating knack for that.

"Yes Kakarrot, it's yours. The universe's idea of a sick joke based off of one chance night," I drawl, feeling my features shift into the usual scowl that I have whenever he speaks/eats/breathes near me. I am satisfied to see that my words sting him, showing him that I am not going to accept him with open arms just because he is the other father of my child. Even if my body has dubbed him as my mate, something that never happened with Bulma. That's an irrelevant point though; my body does not dictate what I do.

Kakarrot looks away from me finally, his eyes staring blankly at the wall opposite as he thinks. I take the opportunity to shift back on the bed so that I may sit against the wall, bending my left leg and resting my arm on it whilst my hand remains on my stomach. The baby has stilled again. When Kakarrot finally speaks he directs his voice at the wall, making no move to return his gaze to me.

"Do you regret that night? Because this happened?" His voice is quiet, thoughtful, and I'm glad of this withdrawn reaction. If he'd hugged me I'm not sure what I would have done. Well, what I would have done after punching him several times at least, at least in theory as this stupid instinct refuses to let me hurt him.

"I would have regretted that night even if it hadn't ended up like this." He gives me an odd look and feeling that I ought to be honest, I continue. "Saiyans are fairly promiscuous by nature, and what happened then wasn't premeditated by either of us. I was thinking about as much as you were and that couldn't be helped. I didn't foresee this possibly happening, Kakarrot, and now that it has, even if it is partly yours, I feel no animosity."

I think those last four words surprised me as much as they do him. They are true though; it isn't an ideal situation, but I have come to relish this new life I carry even if I had to flatten the thought that it is through my rival's doing that I even have it. Kakarrot's eyes widen slightly and the beginnings of a smile quirk at the corners of his mouth. He'd better not try and embrace me. "You mean you want it?"

I sigh, a long-suffering sound that has become far too familiar over the last few months. He can be a complete idiot sometimes. "Would I have kept it if I didn't?"

My words seem to make him happy, his smile breaking forth outright and his hand reaching out and resting on my booted angle. He eyes my stomach for a moment before locking his gaze on mine, a brow raised questioningly. Pleadingly. I consider his request for a moment before deciding that apart from some discomfort on my part nothing negative would come from letting him feel it. Indeed, if I refuse he'll just become more and more persistent until he finally gets his way, which could be never on pure principle if I allowed my mean streak any say. Letting him would mean less irritation on my part.

Shifting my hand to the side a few inches, I leave my permission unspoken, watching the hand that reaches out for me like a hawk and holding myself perfectly still when it comes to rest on my stomach. The soft curve fits disconcertingly well into his large palm, and the warmth that comes whenever he touches me blossoms again. The child moves with what feels like a hand this time, and I mindlessly take Kakarrot's wrist and guide it minutely to the right place. His smile turns into a full-blown grin when he feels it for himself.

"Wow. He's going to be one strong boy," he murmurs, his fingers splaying and causing the warmth to flush out in a fresh wave. I have the strong urge to nuzzle him but force the feeling down with as much strength as I can muster. It falls still again but Kakarrot's hand remains in place, and I'm oddly not bothered about that.

He speaks again, his voice sincere if slightly hesitant. That pleading tone returns to it as well as his face. "I want to help with this, Vegeta. I know that you aren't exactly fond of me, but this can't be easy and like it or not I've got a part in this too."

My contempt for him returns in full force. "A part? You have had no _part_ of this since conception." I am off the bed now, rounding on him and bringing our faces mere inches apart so that he may receive the full force of my glare. My muscles scream and every nerve in my body groans, but he doesn't move from where he is sat.

"I didn't know, otherwise I would have done everything I could to help." A sigh, sharp and decisive as he averts his gaze momentarily and gathers his thoughts. "I can't change not having been here in the last few months-"

"You think that I _needed_ your help?" How dare he presume that? I've dealt with everything this pregnancy has thrown at me so far fine without his help and not once did I desire it. Why should I start now?

He ignores my interruption and continues on as if I had said nothing. "But I can and will stay by you through to the end of this. That's my son as well as yours and I want him to be born safely and healthily." Eyes narrowing, Kakarrot leans in even closer to my face. I can feel his breath on my skin now but I refuse to back down. "Which means that you need to start eating better."

I do whirl away from him now, my legs threatening to give out from the sharpness of the movement but I remain standing. "I've already told the woman that I can't!"

Kakarrot stands, immediately towering over me but I've never allowed that to intimidate me. Placing a hand on my shoulder, he tips his head to the side as warmth trickles through my arm and into my chest. "Well perhaps if I stick around it'll become easier." I raise a brow, not liking where this is going. "Like it or not, we _are _mates, so perhaps my presence will make things go more smoothly."

He must feel it too; the warmth, the possessiveness, the inability to intentionally harm. Fantastic. Kakarrot may have a point though, as much as I hate to admit it. If I let him stay to aid me as he wishes to, even though I do not need it, I do not have to let him cross any of my boundaries. This child will need to be strong and if having this moron close allows me to eat enough to accomplish that, then so be it. This mate issue does not need to be developed more than that.

"Fine, you can stay," I say finally, crossing my arms and dislodging the hand on my shoulder in the process. The warmth hovers like a residue for a moment before flitting out of existence. "But I do not want anyone knowing about this," I add firmly, motioning with my hand between us both. "That would overcomplicate everything and create an undesirable situation."

Kakarrot looks hurt, although I couldn't care less about what he feels. "Vegeta, I don't think that's true. Everyone would understand-"

"No they would not, Kakarrot," I snap back, feeling a very strong desire to get this across as quickly as possible. "They would neither understand nor accept this. We have been rivals far before our eldest were born and there is no love between us now. These _feelings_ are a side effect of this pregnancy and I will not have you treat them as anything but such."

"Alright, have it your way." He looks defeated. Good. He may not understand but he will do what I say, and that's enough for me. People will need to know about the child though even if we do not disclose its parentage. Even with looser clothes my condition is becoming difficult to conceal and it will be impossible in a few weeks.

Right on cue, the door hushes open and Trunks walks into the lab, Bra in his arms clutching at his neck. He shifts his head to look up over her hair and eyes Kakarrot and myself warily. This close together and with such tension apparent it does look like a face-off and I am not eager to change that perception. "Dad, Goku, mum says that dinner's ready if you want something. Gohan and Goten are already down there," he informs us before turning to leave. I call out to him before he goes, surprising myself as much as him.

This is humiliating, but he's going to find out and I might as well be the one to tell him. "Trunks, Bra, you're going to have another brother in a few weeks." The boy frowns in confusion, obviously wracking his brains for the last time he saw his mother to see if anything was different. I decide to save him some time. "I'm the one carrying it and Kakarrot is going to be staying here to help me."

I can't see the boy's eyebrows they've disappeared so far into his fringe. "Uh, okay, dad." My daughter seems far more enthused than he, bouncing in Trunks's arms and grinning widely. "Yay! A new baby brother!"

Waving them away, I tell them that I'll be there shortly and watch them leave. Glancing at Kakarrot and taking in his ruined Gi, I decide that it doesn't matter how he is dressed for dinner. He can go and fetch clothing and whatever later, but I'd rather be wearing something in better shape for now.

Opening one of the drawers set into the wall, I fish out a bundled up shirt that has probably been in here for months. I rarely put the shirts taken off me in here back on before I leave and so a collection tends to build up after a few weeks. Setting it aside, I ignore the burn in my arms as I pull the shredded remains of my current shirt off. Instantly I feel Kakarrot's eyes wander down my back, and I turn as I discard it and collect up the new one. His eyes are back on my now completely exposed stomach but he doesn't look happy.

"You really should be bigger, you know," he murmurs, concern thick as he rubs at his chin. I grunt and quickly pull the new shirt over my head and over my midsection, relieved when he finally takes his eyes off it.

"And how would you know that? This isn't exactly a normal situation, Kakarrot. For all we know it's meant to be small." I for one am glad that it isn't bigger. My pelvis is beginning a nightly protest against being pushed constantly and the baby is already capable of internal bruising. There's also the eventual birth to consider, although I haven't committed a great deal of thought towards that.

"I don't know; Bulma's worried. She said if you didn't start eating properly and put on some more weight she's going to have to put you on intravenous."

I cock a brow, already walking towards the door. "Well then we'd better go down and eat then, hadn't we?"

Kakarrot grins at the prospect of food and follows me out to the part of the complex that is my home. As we walk, he closes the distance between us and his hand touches gently upon the small of my back. I do not appreciate the gesture but the warmth and the ease it brings prevents me from forcing him away. I enjoy it too much, and for him to keep touching me he must find some pleasure in it too. I wonder if he feels as torn and confused about this development as I.

,,,,,,,,,

That night Vegeta found himself dropping into bed feeling far better than he had in a long time. Bulma had moved herself to another part of the complex and left Goku next door to their old shared bedroom. Goten was in a sleeping bag on the floor of Trunk's room, an arrangement that had pleased the friends immensely, and Gohan had found himself next door to Bra's room. Dinner had been less awkward than they had all feared and there was some comfort to be found in that Vegeta seemed to have finally regained his appetite. In fact, it now surpassed Goku's, something that had caused the larger man to smile warmly at. He found it reassuring.

It had definitely been Goku's presence that had helped in this and Bulma had given into his insistence that he and his sons stay with them for the next two months. Goku had not wanted to leave his sons alone at home for so long and Bulma seemed to appreciate that Vegeta as well as her was accepting the help he was offering. If it meant that the weeks would pass easier she didn't mind, and she felt pleased that she could take them in after Chichi's recent death. It was a small comfort but they all seemed to appreciate it.

Over dinner, the awesome power that Vegeta had displayed earlier in the day had come under scrutiny and, with everyone present now aware of the expected child, a probable reason had been quickly reached. Bulma had suggested that it was the pregnancy and the need to protect himself and the unborn child that had provided the prince with such a boost, and that the reason he had blacked out afterwards was because he wasn't eating well enough to maintain it and he had very little idea of how to control it.

Goku and Vegeta had been more than happy to leave it at that, although the children had made one or two comments relating to mood swings and the sudden disappearance of half the planet. It was only Goku's hand that had kept Vegeta from lunging across the table and tearing out their throats.

Rolling from his side onto his back, Vegeta smiled thinly as he remembered the sheer terror he had instilled before Goku had held him back. The smile turned sour as his back and hips flared again, the discomfort that had not left in the hours that he had been lying here turning to pain. Attaining sleep had been difficult for the last fortnight in this way, although having Goku on the other side of the wall had taken the edge off of it tonight. It wasn't enough to allow him to rest though, even though his limbs ached and his stomach was, for once, full.

Pressing a hand to his stomach as the baby gave another sharp kick, Vegeta finally opened his eyes and resigned himself to staring at the ceiling until the feelings passed. He found this time short though as a ki flickered briefly in the corner before Goku, wearing nothing but dark blue shorts, silently approached the bed, having Instant Transported through from the other room.

"What do you want?" Vegeta muttered, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling as the other Saiyan finally reached the side of the bed. He was, frankly, quite surprised that his presence wasn't bothering him more.

Goku decided to bite the bullet and sat on the edge of the bed, hesitating to see what Vegeta would do and then speaking when the older man did nothing. "I could sense you through the wall and wanted to see if I could help. You need to rest."

Dark eyes snapped to his and Vegeta's lips pulled back in a snarl. "Don't tell me what I need." With that, he rolled back onto his side with his back facing the other man, wrapping his tail about his leg beneath the sheet and clamping his eyes shut. He could still feel the depression on the side of the bed where Goku sat.

"Can I stay with you tonight? I can't sleep when I can sense that much discomfort coming from you, and being around might help," Goku broached, seeing it as quite a straightforward solution to what was essentially a problem. Not that it would matter if he stayed in Vegeta's bed tonight anyway; the other had made his feelings quite clear and Goku was mindful of pushing against his wishes, but at the same time he felt remarkably comfortable around the man now that they had both accepted that they were mates.

Vegeta's thoughts had gone along a similar route as he considered the request, finally deciding that anything was better than lying here like this. "Do what you must," he answered finally, his eyes still shut although he was mentally working out how far to the side of the bed he was and how much room he had allowed the other. Not quite enough apparently, as Goku slipped under the sheets easily and immediately settled against his back.

He stiffened when a heavily muscled arm slid across his side and a hand rested against his clothed hip. It remained only long enough to wait for a reaction, which he did not give, before sweeping up to his bare waist and then through the crook of his arm to touch upon his stomach. Rather than pulling him back as Vegeta was beginning to expect, Goku shifted forward so that their bodies were flush, his arm now wrapped possessively about his abdomen and his hand beneath his stomach against the mattress.

The ache and tension seeped from him inside this shield and Vegeta exhaled in pronounced relief. Goku's close presence, although physically relieving, was still distinctly uncomfortable as he struggled with his pride over the position he was now in and the fact that it was Goku, a third class soldier, holding him in this way. He grudgingly admitted that it did feel good though, and if it turned out to be regular practice he could become used to it.

Goku's breath coming warm and steady at the back of his neck as he slept, Vegeta too found himself beginning to doze off. Deciding to sort out this mess of circumstance and feeling in the morning, he resigned himself to the embrace and relaxed fully. Minutes later, when both Saiyans had become completely oblivious, the black tail unwound languidly from about Vegeta's thigh and coiled in a reflectively possessive manner about Goku's thigh. The larger man shifted a little as the limb constricted before relaxing, tightening his arm about the other and nuzzling obliviously into thick, dark hair.

Through the slight crack in the door, Bulma blinked once before closing it again having only opened it a minute before. Her jaw hardening and her mouth a thin line, she wound her way back to her own room, her thoughts buzzing the entire way.

,,,,,,,,

Two weeks later and the nightly routine was still the same. Vegeta would lie in bed distinctly uncomfortable for just under an hour, Goku would Teleport into the room without a word and they'd spend the night flush against each other until dawn when the larger Saiyan would move back into his own room as if nothing had happened. As far as they knew no one knew about this and Bulma had said nothing. Indeed, she had spent the remainder of the night she had found out carefully putting the pieces together in her own mind before resigning herself to it, acting entirely normal since.

Vegeta continued to tear through the library as he sat against large rocks and trees in deserted fields, only now Goku remained near training with their sons. Gohan came and went from Capsule Corp. although he preferred to spend the nights there away from the disturbingly empty house, a stoic reminder of his deceased mother, and Goten barely left Trunk's side, happy for the first time in months with the older boy's company.

The day had been uneventful in the same way and now, late into the night, Vegeta drifted to sleep with the same muddled feeling of contentment and agitation. Goku felt similar although he chose to simply take the moments for what they were and find pleasure in being permitted such close contact with his mate. There had been a stirring temptation recently to take it further but he was quite certain that Vegeta wasn't quite open minded enough to allow _that_ and so had squashed the feeling down. Just holding the Saiyan at night would be enough.

Tonight though Goku awoke abruptly from pleasant dreams upon sensing a great deal of distress from the man against his chest, a light tremble wracking his frame and his breathing shallow and sharp. Sitting up and leaning over him in concern, his eyes widened at the sheen of perspiration on Vegeta's face and the muscles tightly bunched along his jaw.

"Vegeta? What's wrong?" he asked urgently, his hand naturally moving away from the prince's stomach and sweeping up and down his taut back. The trembling did not ease and a sudden grunt of pain escaped before Vegeta finally spoke.

"It hurts. I don't know why," he bit out, breathing harshly as the wave of pain receded. He knew there would be another within the next minute; it had been like this for an hour now, although why Goku had woken now he had no idea. He had been trying to stay as quiet and still as possible. With the larger Saiyan no longer pressed against his back, he took the opportunity to curl in tighter on himself, his tail thumping the mattress rapidly.

Concern balled up tightly in Goku's chest, his hand returning to Vegeta's stomach where he rubbed gently with his fingers in an effort to help soothe the pain. "He can't be coming; you've still got over a month left." The bump he touched didn't feel ready either. Although Vegeta had begun to slowly gain weight over the last fortnight, his face filling back out healthily and his stomach swelling, he still remained a lot smaller than Bulma or Chichi had been near the end of their pregnancies. It was very worrying.

When Vegeta didn't answer, he reluctantly removed himself from the bed and touched the intercom on the wall by the door. "Bulma, can you come to Vegeta's room? He's suddenly in a lot of pain."

"Not so suddenly," Vegeta chimed in quietly from the bed, not speaking loud enough for the microphone to pick up although Goku heard it clearly.

"Alright, I'll be there in a minute," came Bulma's voice scratchily through the speaker.

Goku released the button and returned to the bed, sitting at Vegeta's knees and putting a firm hand on a tense shoulder. "How long has it been like this if it isn't sudden?"

Vegeta didn't meet his eyes, his gaze focussed on a certain crumple in the sheets a few inches from his nose. He was awaiting the next pain although there had been no sign of it yet. In his dreading anticipation he answered truthfully without hesitation. "About an hour."

"Vegeta!" Goku groaned, exasperated. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"I thought it wasn't important," he snapped back tersely, rolling onto his back again and pressing his palms into his stomach. The baby was unusually still and combined with the strange pains Vegeta was admittedly worried. Goku didn't seem to have anything to say to his statement and he chose to remain silent as well, his breathing returning to normal finally. Another minute passed and the pain didn't return, but then neither did any activity from the baby.

Very anxious now, Vegeta decided to voice his fears to the other man, not taking his eyes from his hands now motionless against his stomach, almost praying for any movement at all. "Kakarrot, I-"

The door opened abruptly cutting off his words, and bright light from the hallway illuminated a thick band of the room including both Saiyans. Ignoring Goku entirely, Bulma stalked into the room with a small bag and placed it on the edge of the bed. Seating herself at Vegeta's hip, she didn't bother asking for permission as she pulled the sheet down and placed her hands on his stomach, probing intently. "Can you feel it at all?"

Vegeta shook his head mutely, watching the woman work and focussing intently on the life he was carrying, willing it to kick, roll, anything, something to assure him that it was all right. He had no idea what had happened and wracked his mind for something that could have caused this but came up blank. He had to put his trust fully into the human to work out what was wrong and then to fix it.

Nothing was said for a moment as she concentrated before Goku felt that he should at least attempt to explain his barely-dressed presence here in the middle of the night. "Listen Bulma, I-"

"Be quiet Goku," she cut him off, opening the bag and pulling out a small scanner, which she placed on Vegeta's stomach, ignoring his hiss of discomfort at the cold metal. "I've already figured out what's been going on so you don't need to say anything." Looking up she asked; "has the pain come back at all?"

"Not since Kakarrot called for you," Vegeta answered, not sure if that was a good sign or a very bad one. Goku fidgeted awkwardly a little way away and he rolled his eyes, certain that he didn't need this tension on top of everything else. "Woman, are you angry with us?"

She paused in listening, holding the instrument still against his skin with her thumb and forefinger as her eyes rose to meet his. He met her gaze stoically, not particularly caring what her answer was if not for Goku's sake. "Of course I'm angry, but there's nothing I can do about it. As long as you don't go flaunting yourselves in front of me I don't particularly give a damn."

Vegeta grunted with a thin, wry smile. "Good." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Goku relax marginally as well, although he was by no means comfortable in the room. The other Saiyan was not his immediate concern though and he waited with rapidly thinning patience as Bulma finished her examination and pulled the sheet back up over his stomach. "Well?"

"Nothing to worry about; you're both fine," she finally announced, placing her hands in her lap and regarding them both in turn. At their relieved yet disbelieving expressions she elaborated. "It looks like it was just a case of Braxton Hicks contractions - false labour, which is fairly common in the last stages. Nothing to worry about at all."

"Then why isn't he moving?" Vegeta demanded, not at all satisfied with her dismissive assessment. The baby was almost always moving, be it in the shower or when he was trying to sleep. To feel it so still was highly disconcerting. He hadn't realised he'd become so used to it.

Bulma shrugged slightly, collecting up the bag into her lap although she didn't stand. "I don't know, but it seems fine in there. It's probably just a bit surprised by all the muscle movement and will start acting up in a bit. Come find me in the morning if it hasn't changed by then." With that she rose smoothly to her feet and left, closing the door behind her and returning to her own room. That had felt very uncomfortable but at least she had been the one in control, the one that had to be listened to whilst she worked. It had given her a focus and some reassurance. Facing Goku again in a few hours could be interesting though.

Inside the room, Goku scrubbed a hand awkwardly through his hair and returned to the bed and sat in the spot that Bulma had just occupied. "See? Nothing to worry about," he said aloud although his words were false and forced. Although Bulma had said it was nothing tonight had rattled him.

Vegeta didn't respond, bringing his knees up closer to his chest and resting his forearms on them, not quite sure what to do now. He wouldn't be able to sleep until his son showed some activity and the building anxiety as he awaited that was starting to make him feel ill. Goku seemed to pick up on this, shifting to the head of the bed and placing a hand on each of his shoulders, guiding him to sit forward before working his way behind him and pulling him back to rest against his chest.

"Ssh, it'll be alright. He's a Saiyan. A bit of false labour wont have done him any harm," he soothed, idly kneading the firm muscles above Vegeta's shoulder blades as he leaned his face into the dark hair on his head. The smaller man said nothing, closing his eyes as the warmth from the odd bond that being mates lent as well as Goku's body heat wormed into his muscles. The sudden grunt of pain moments later only escaped because relaxing so had brought down his guard.

Goku's arms tightened about him immediately. "Vegeta? Does is hurt again? Should I get Bulma?" His voice was thick with worry and anxiety, being unable to see his mate's face increasing his distress most unhelpfully.

"No," Vegeta hissed out through clenched teeth, squirming in Goku's grip before giving up and twisting partially onto his side clutching his stomach. "He's trying to kick his way out of me." He groaned as he felt his tender innards falling subject to yet another flurry of abuse, although he wouldn't have changed it for the world. The relief he felt was almost as overwhelming as the pain. "Damn you for doing this to me, Kakarrot," he murmured only partially joking, not wanting to go through the last hour ever again if he could help it.

Not caring what Vegeta said, Goku simply held him close whilst murmuring softly, waiting with the other for the child to settle. He had been genuinely frightened for both of them and even though it hadn't amounted to anything serious the need to protect had increased dramatically.

Inhaling the prince's scent, he shifted on the bed slightly, prepared to remain like this through the rest of the night should Vegeta fall asleep against his chest. Anything that could offer any comfort or reassurance he would gladly give, even if it did flaunt something that would not last in front of him.

,,,,,,,

Yes, their relationship is progressing at an unnaturally fast pace. No, I don't care if it reads clunky. I'm spacing out the 'dips' I take into their lives by a good few days, weeks sometimes, so stuff happens then that isn't detailed here. I think enough happens in each chapter to keep it interesting though.

All right, enough of my 'please don't flame me' disclaimers. Honest opinions, anyone?


	4. Where do we go from here

Got this finished quite a bit sooner than I had anticipated, but Chapter 5 is putting up a fight so that one could be a while. Fluff and yaoi goodness in this one, so I do hope you enjoy. There aren't many chapters left either, so don't worry about having to wait forever to see this fic finished.

A thanks for reviewing is extended to **littlefox1227 **(Have updated soon, and their relationship is still growing), **YumeTakato** (and the word 'interesting' appears yet again... Oh well, at least I'm stimulating brain cells with this thing), **Ice Maiden **(Bulma confrontation, you'll just have to wait and see about. Glad you liked Goku's reaction as I was trying to keep off the beaten track with it. Hate cliches), **Purple-Moonlight **(Yes, the long chapters make up for few chapters. So really, this fic is pretty long!), **Sandalino Silvio Leif **('good' as opposed to 'interesting'. Can't win 'em all. ;) and **DJ Silence Yuy **(Wonderful to have converted you to Goku/Vegeta. It is a scrummy pairing).

And finally, **Gutterball**. What can I say? Deliciously long and rich review and then two emails giving an in-depth review of this fic so far! Absolutely fabulous. I'm deeply appreciative, and you've more than earned a special mention here. (Pets)

As I've said, I'd love to respond to everyone who has reviewed fully, but the Powers That Be who overlord frown quite strongly upon such activities, and I've had a story deleted by them before and I do not wish for a repeat.

Anywho, I hope you all enjoy this latest instalment. No idea when the next will be up as it's playing games right now.

****

Chapter 4

This child has really made life ridiculous. After the first bought of false labour that night a week ago, Kakarrot has gone from overbearing to full blown neurotic and has barely left my side despite various threats that his life _will _end when I can hit him again. His presence was welcomed though when these Braxton Hicks things struck again a few days later and then yesterday though. I don't want to imagine the pain if he hadn't been in close contact.

The woman just keeps repeating that everything is normal, although she did say that she wanted to do another examination. That turned out to be a check to see if nature has provided me with an actual means by which to give birth, and I did not like the idea of that. She became more adamant and then Kakarrot got involved and now the idiot is all but shoving me down the corridor to her lab. I walk as if by my own accord with him a few steps behind me, but if he weren't there I would have been long gone from this building by now. I do not welcome the prospect of being pocked and prodded like this.

Reaching the door, Kakarrot places a reassuring hand on my shoulder just before I can go inside. "Are you sure you want to go in there alone? I can stay with you if you want."

What, and hold my hand whilst the woman shoves things where they are most certainly not welcomed? I think not. Allowing the fact that I'm still angry with him that I'm here in the first place to show clearly on my face, I ignore his offer and step through the doorway, locking the door behind me. The woman is waiting beside a bed that has some strange contraption clamped on either side at one end. Stepping closer, I see that they look like a sort of harness that I am supposed to rest my legs on.

"Not a chance," I say flatly as I stare at the thing, leaving no room for her to broach an argument. A glance at the table of equipment beside the stool at the foot of the bed strengthens my resolve. Perhaps I should have let Kakarrot stay. I could have thrown him at my supposed wife and then bolted. I wouldn't have been hurting him, just relocating him at speed. A quick check with my senses tells me that he's standing guard outside the door, leaving me with no hope of escape now.

I suddenly find a medical gown shoved into my chest. "Don't be stupid, Vegeta, I've seen you naked a hundred times."

My eyes widen to what must have been a comical extent. "Not like this!" I yell, pointing at the harness whilst I instinctively hold the gown in front of me.

She scowls at me. "It's necessary, now stop dawdling and get changed." I follow her directing hand to see a screen in the corner and my tail bristles. "Or are you afraid of a little check-up?"

I snarl at being played like this but she's won. By insinuating that I'm scared is the quickest way of getting me to do something, followed closely by attacking my pride, and she knows it. Stalking over to the screen, I quickly strip and pull the flimsy gown over my head, fuming the entire time. Ten minutes later I've been manhandled into the damn device and am staring resolutely at the ceiling tiles, stoically ignoring everything the woman is doing to me.

Some time later I hear the snap of gloves being pulled off and she sits back, making a thoughtful noise to herself. If my ankles weren't restrained I'd have kicked her by now. "Well, it doesn't look like there's a way for it to be born." I don't and indeed can't say anything to that, choosing to wait for her to elaborate before reacting. "I'd presumed it would come out the same way it was made, but that's just not physically possible for you."

"Well then what?" I demand, sitting up as much as I can despite the profound discomfort it causes. Bulma looks back at me over the rumpled gown on my stomach.

"Most likely surgery, which would be quite straightforward. However the skin at the bottom of your stomach is changing colour so some sort of birthing canal might be forming there, although it's quite unlikely." Standing, she undoes the straps about my ankles and lets me lift my knees up from the stirrups.

I flop back down flat on my back after tugging the gown back into place, glowering at the ceiling as if this whole mess was its fault. "This is so stupid."

She huffs like she's important and I'm still listening to her. Right now I'm sending mental death-threats at Kakarrot. This is all his fault. Standing back from me and taking the various tools she's used to the sink, she makes her retort over her shoulder. "Well there's very little any of us can do about it. Evolution doesn't always get it right first time." I have the very strong feeling that she had been about to say 'mutation' then and had changed her mind at the last second, probably thinking that I wouldn't exactly welcome the word. She'd have been right.

Returning behind the screen to redress, I hear the door open and moments later Kakarrot is standing on the other side of the screen. "Vegeta? Can I come round?" I grit my teeth, realizing that half an hour of separation had been enough to undo the man. Finishing doing the tie on my lose trousers and collecting up my shirt from the hook, I grunt an affirmative.

He just watches me as I finish dressing, hopefully ignorant of my slight limp from the examination. When I am done, he follows me out of the lab and along the corridors to the kitchen. Neither of us help ourselves to food, my gaze fixed out of the window at the pair approaching the door beneath us. It is Krillin and Piccolo, which is strange in itself as I have rarely seen those two walking together like this. Krillin has been calling after Kakarrot for a few weeks now but the idiot has been so concerned with me that he's ignored his requests. And Piccolo is just being irritating; I've made a point of subtly avoiding him.

"Kakarrot, you're idiot friends are here. Why don't you go and do something menial with them for a few hours?" I prompt, my arms crossing above my swollen stomach and my eyes still on the pair. They're at the door now and disappear from my sight as they are ushered inside, probably by Trunks.

"Nah, I should stay here. I don't want to leave you alone." It's been the same damn response every day for almost a month and it's wearing extremely thin. I can no longer even appreciate the gesture it has become so annoying.

Growling, I turn away from the window and fix my sights on him, watching as he takes a step towards me. "I am fine without you, Kakarrot. I am a Saiyan Prince; I'm not completely helpless. And your constant presence is driving me insane." I speak slowly and evenly, letting my feelings be known through the coolness of my words.

Infuriatingly, he grins guiltily and puts a hand behind his head. "Yeah, I suppose we have been spending a lot of time together. All right, I'll go out for a bit, but I don't want you left on your own. I'll ask Trunks to keep an eye on you until I get back."

The urge to scream is strong and my tail snaps violently behind me but I know that that's the best compromise I'm going to get out of him. My son isn't _quite_ as annoying as Kakarrot and I haven't spoken to him properly in a long time. It could be worse. He could have got one of his own spawn to play my keeper. "Fine, now go because I'm quite certain this bond won't prevent me from killing them."

He smiles, amused, and heads back for the door. "I wouldn't try it, Vegeta; I don't think you could take the strain." Then he's gone, leaving me quietly seething for several minutes before Trunks appears in the doorway. I watch through the window as the three fighters take off, Kakarrot predictably glancing my way before reaching a decent speed and vanishing. My son approaches me with all due hesitation.

"Uh, dad? Is there anything you want to do? Goku just said to stay with you," he explains when he reaches my side, following my gaze out of the window before looking up at me again.

As I consider this, my thoughts jump back to the final verdict of the examination and something occurs to me. It can only be described as an instinctual knowledge of what I need, although that's impossible because as far as I'm aware I'm the first male Saiyan to be pregnant. "I need to get something." I regard him thoughtfully for a moment. Perhaps I can use a distraction to obtain some peace. It's certainly worth a try. "Fetch Goten and he can come with us."

His eyes immediately light up and a smile threatens to split his head in two. Yes, definitely a good distraction. "You mean it? Cool, dad! Thanks!" And then he vanishes from the room at an impressive speed to seek out Kakarrot's youngest brat.

I fetch my wallet from inside one of high drawers by the oven and slip it into my back pocket, making my way downstairs and pulling on a long coat when I reach the front door. The loose clothes and leather coat will help conceal my stomach as any stares I'd receive would end up resulting in death, simply considering my unusually heightened strength in conjunction with my spectacularly short tether.

Trunks and Goten appear at my side each seeming quite eager to be taken out. I decide to take the car today as my stomach and head are being quite temperamental, and if the brats have the sudden desire to impulse-buy a lot of junk then it'll be easier to get back. There's also that whole deal of Earthlings not being entirely comfortable with people flying, but so many have seen it now I consider it a moot point.

,,,,,,,,,,

"So it's really true?" Krillin asked keenly as he flew, not having to speak loudly as he was keeping quite close to Goku, Piccolo on the other side of the Saiyan. "Vegeta's really pregnant?"

Goku smiled thinly, faintly surprised that the Namek had said nothing of all this so far. "Yes it's true. He's supposed to be due in a few weeks too."

"Wow. You wouldn't have any idea who the other guy is, would you?"

Remembering Vegeta's very strong desire for their unusual and unspecified relationship to be kept secret, Goku shook his head and forced a bemused expression that didn't quite reach his eyes. He was proud of the son they had on the way and wanted to share that, but the Prince was adamant about secrecy. "Not a clue. I don't think he's told anyone."

Piccolo cast Goku an unseen sidelong stare, trying to read through that statement. He knew the truth about the child's parentage and he had his suspicions about their existing relationship. Goku seemed to have been spending an awful lot of time at Capsule Corp. recently, and an air of anxiety seemed to hover about him now that Vegeta wasn't with them. It was very interesting.

He found the idea of these two rivals having a child together very puzzling, although for the most part it made sense. Goku had taken Chichi's death extremely hard, Vegeta had been more than happy to indulge him in relieving the physical tension as well as the emotional stress on him in several fights, and at least one had clearly evolved into something more. Vegeta had obviously dealt with the initial months of the pregnancy alone, judging from what he'd seen and heard the night he found out, and now Goku was spending a lot of time around the smaller Saiyan, obviously supporting him. Krillin seemed happy to accept that this was simply an act of friendship on Goku's part that Vegeta was strangely accepting, but Piccolo suspected that there was something more. And if Goku wasn't admitting to fathering the child, then it had not been defined or accepted yet.

Looking away, Piccolo decided that it was none of his business what the two Saiyan's did and felt and so he would keep out of it until things escalated -as they were bound to- and intervention was necessary. He had intended to speak to at least one of them today but Krillin was making it difficult. The small man seemed completely oblivious to the complexity of the situation he was prying into.

"Makes you wonder though, doesn't it?" Krillin said thoughtfully, a hand coming to rub at his chin as his gaze fell down to look at the vast expanse of water they were currently crossing.

"What does?" Piccolo asked irritably, deciding that he should at least show some involvement in the conversation. He noticed as well as Goku that Krillin was slowing his flight as he thought. They were now at about half speed they had been but they weren't heading anywhere in particular so neither he nor Goku commented.

Krillin mused aloud, his thoughts clearly evolving as he spoke them. "I was just thinking; Vegeta's a really, _really_ proud guy right? And he obviously had to submit to end up like this. So who had the power to get him to?"

"I-I don't know." Goku's voice had a clear note of hesitation that Krillin failed to notice but made Piccolo's ears prick up. There was clearly something more to that, some deeper meaning inherent in his tone and guarded expression.

Speed steady now, Krillin continued obliviously. "Well, none of us have seen him around. Hey, if Vegeta's due in a few weeks he'd have to have been like this for quite a while, right? And none of us knew anything up until a few weeks ago, so he's done this on his own. So maybe some guy slept with him and then pissed off leaving him holding the baby. Then Vegeta probably got mad and blew him to kingdom-come and that's why we haven't seen hide nor hair of the guy."

It was Goku who had slowed their speed now, bringing them to a halt as he levitated a mile above the water with his back to them both. Piccolo hovered close to Krillin and gave him a hard thump to the arm and a warning glare, both of which were met with confusion as the short man looked from the Namek to his friend in turn. "Hey, no need to get mad, guys. I mean, if Vegeta _didn't_ do anything we still can. Vegeta's always been dedicated to his family even if he doesn't show it all the time, so he must have been caught off-guard one night and he was too ashamed to tell anyone. If he's still alive we can find the bastard and make him pay, right Goku?"

The large Saiyan was staring straight ahead, every muscle taut as he worked to keep himself from exploding at his flagrantly ignorant friend. At least Piccolo hadn't said anything. He wasn't sure if he could handle a double assault like this. The guilt, shame and confusion building in him were difficult enough to contain.

Finally Krillin noticed the palpable tension in the air and swallowed heavily because of it. "Uh, Goku?"

"It was me." The words were breathed and both listeners looked surprised to hear them, Piccolo for the admittance and Krillin at the note of honesty. "I did this to him. I'm the bastard. I attacked him. I made him cheat on Bulma and I left him with it for months, but I didn't know!"

Goku pivoted in the air at those last words, his face earnest as if pleading for their understanding. "He didn't tell me for weeks and when I finally found out I did my best to support him. I've done everything I can to help, I really have." He looked lost and defeated then, his gaze darting about and externalising his indecision. "It doesn't change what I did though." He needed to find Vegeta, needed to talk to him about all of this, now, before the guilt became unbearable.

Decision made, he drifted above them both and shot back off in the direction they had come from, stretching out his senses to try and locate Vegeta and their unborn son. Vegeta's ki was suppressed, as usual, but Trunks's was undisguised and Goten was near them both. Putting on an extra burst of speed, Goku silently prayed to whoever might be listening that he could fix all of this. It was no wonder that Vegeta was so cool around him; he hadn't forgiven him.

Half a mile away and still hovering stunned in the air, Krillin and Piccolo exchanged surprised gazes. Looking off after their rapidly departing friend, Krillin broke away to give chase but stopped when a large hand seized his leg. It's owner shook his head firmly. "Leave it alone. This is not something we can get involved in, and there are things that need to be discussed."

Deliberately flying in the opposite direction, Piccolo trusted Krillin to follow him without argument as he began to compose his thoughts as to where to begin. That was a situation that ought not to have happened and yet had been a potential hazard for weeks, and the record needed to be set straight with as many people as possible so that something similar didn't occur again. Resisting the urge not to pause and clip Krillin hard about the head, he surged on to an island that he knew was deserted.

,,,,,,,,

For the last half hour Vegeta had allowed himself to be lead around by the young boys about various shops, none of which contained the item he had come out to procure. Right now they were in some sort of arcade, Trunks and Goten surveying the newest games and planning when next to come by to test them and Vegeta cracking his teeth as he barely tolerated the barrage of noise and the stench of so many humans packed together.

Producing his wallet, he thrust a few bills at his son, smirking internally at the look of utter shock on his young face. That was expected though as he'd never done something like this before. The pregnancy was starting to make him soft, but more importantly it was making him desperate. "Play them now so I don't have to come here again in the near future. I'll be close-by."

Goten scurried off with a jubilant 'thanks' to make the change before Vegeta could change his mind, Trunks remaining dutifully beside his father. Inside ten minutes, both boys were engrossed and his son had finally ceased casting watchful looks over his shoulder, allowing Vegeta the opportunity to slip away for a few minutes. He only intended to go to a shop that was twenty seconds walk away and he wouldn't be long. What he wanted would raise unwanted questions though, and he had grown very tired of being escorted everywhere like some invalid.

Back in the bright sunshine on the street, Vegeta crossed through the crowd and down a side alley until he came to a weapons shop he had spotted earlier when he had been indulging the boys in milling about. Immediately heading towards the knife case, he beckoned the storekeeper over and selected several of the blades to inspect before purchasing.

The first three were not of the standard he wanted, their blades easily scratched and the hilts more decorative than practical. He wanted something he could grip securely. The last two knives, both black and each with slightly different shaped blades, were far closer to what he had been after, and he finally chose the knife with the slighter blade. It was reassuringly weighty and thick grooves ran about the metal hilt, the blade just under seven inches of unyielding smooth metal. Handing over the necessary amount, Vegeta slipped the knife into its hilt and strapped that about his calf inside his boot. The weapon was now perfectly hidden yet easily accessible.

Realising that the transaction had taken less time than he had thought and that the boys were still quite immersed in their games, Vegeta decided to relish his brief freedom and survey the rest of the stock the shop had to offer.

Goku landed sweating although it wasn't from exertion. Ignoring the stares and whispers from the people about him as he touched down, he immediately honed in on his son's presence and jogged into the arcade, locating both boys quickly and feeling his heart leap into his throat when he couldn't see Vegeta. Grabbing each boy by the shoulder, he turned them to face him.

"Where's Vegeta?" he asked quickly, his words carrying a sense of urgency that neither child could understand. Goku knew that he was being irrational, but the feelings stirring about his gut and the panic of now finding his mate missing had made him so. When his Trunks and his son merely looked surprised and glanced about themselves for the missing Saiyan, Goku groaned aloud and left them to go back out onto the street.

His impressive height proved a strong advantage as he surveyed the crowd, moving his girth through the people blindly as he searched for the Prince. Seconds later he couldn't quite believe seeing him suddenly emerge from the throng of people, walking completely oblivious to the sheer panic he had caused. Seeing Goku, he rolled his eyes yet approached him anyway, obviously surprised when he was embraced abruptly.

Goku pulled away quickly for fear of hurting or even angering him, but his relief at finding him again was quickly surpassed by his anger. "What did you think you were doing? You know I don't want you left alone right now!"

Surprised and grossly affronted, Vegeta's response was more snapped than spoken. "I shall go where I please and I don't need any keeper. And I thought you were leaving me alone for the rest of the day, or couldn't you bear the separation?" His tone was acidic and their sons who had just appeared behind them looked surprised at the confrontation.

"I'm not going to apologise for being concerned, Vegeta. You're vulnerable right now and I don't want anything happening to you."

If anything that show of concern angered the Prince even more, his hair flashing gold for a second and his tail whipping about beneath the expanse of his coat. "You insult me, Kakarrot, and I don't take that lightly. Now is not the time to settle this though, and I do not want to speak to nor see you for the remainder of the day. Go back to whatever you were doing and leave me in peace." Not bothering waiting for a reply, Vegeta turned back into the crowd and stormed off, his head low and his fists clenched hard.

Goku closed his eyes for a moment, deeply pained, before turning to the two wide-eyed boys. "Stay with him and make sure he gets back safely, please." They both nodded sharply before diving amongst the people to catch up with Vegeta, the Saiyan completely ignoring them when they appeared at his back. Goku watched them leave before moving away himself, resolved to let Vegeta cool down before sorting all of this out. He couldn't leave it past tonight though. The pain thrumming in his chest wouldn't allow it.

Although Krillin was largely at fault he had still struck upon a few tender points that Goku had been carefully brushing aside. He didn't remember an awful lot of the night he and Vegeta had shared, and he had clearly not been thinking coherently at the time. Although it was only marginal, he _was_ stronger than the Prince, so what if he had forced himself onto the other? He'd even mocked him about it the first time they spoke of the event, his words meant to hurt, which they had. And now Vegeta refused to acknowledge what was happening between them and was submitting to his signs of affection rather than reciprocating them. Vegeta always _allowed _him to hold him at night; he never acted in return. What frightened Goku about that the most was whether this behaviour had come about from shame, fear, or a sickening combination of both.

,,,,,,,,,

Today the message finally sunk in that when I become agitated, the child does, and when the child becomes agitated, it kicks as if it is punishing me for the feeling. I had fumed about Kakarrot's actions for the rest of the day as well as the examination with the woman this morning, and had suffered plenty for it. I'm astoundingly relieved that it is now night, although I know that Kakarrot will be paying me a visit soon. That's fine though. There's obviously something he wants or needs to say to me. That had been apparent enough just before he lost it in front of the children.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, I try to will away the aches and feeling of light-headedness that the day has left me with. Ordinarily I could take several poundings and not go to sleep feeling like this, but this pregnancy is draining me on many levels, wearing down my reserves and leaving me feeling weak and irritable.

Right on cue, Kakarrot appears a few feet in front of me, taking his hand down from his forehead and revealing a mask of concern and distress. Something's really bothering him and I have a feeling that attempting to resolve it is going to bother me too. He takes so many things lightly that when something serious happens he doesn't know what to do, whereas I who have had far more experience can see what needs to be done and am quite content to sit back and watch him squirm. Not tonight though. After the support he's been providing over the last few weeks I owe him at least this.

Before I can speak though, Kakarrot comes about the bed and sits beside me, resting a hand on my back before moving it down my back, and I can feel his fingers seeking out knotted muscles. "Are you all right? You like tired."

I rub my face with my hands and sit back, relaxing into the familiar warmth. "It's been a long day." I cast him a curious look but he is looking at the carpet and does not see. My muscles ache with the need for rest and I stand to strip, toeing off my boots having hidden the knife after I returned earlier. Kakarrot still does not speak although I can see that there is much he wants to say. Finally I prompt him, wanting this over and settled as quickly as possible. "Just what got into you earlier?"

He looks up wistfully although not at me as I move behind him and slide under the sheets, suppressing a groan as the mattress finally takes my weight off my muscles. Stuffing a pillow against the headboard to support my back as I sit up, I sit through the unnerving silence preceding his answer, idly noting the gentle stirrings of the life inside me.

When Kakarrot does eventually speak, his voice is hushed and his still refuses to look at me. "Did I rape you?"

I blink, my brows jumping upwards and my mind going blank. That was definitely the last thing I had been expecting. Tired and feeling some weird sense of obligation, I seek to ease his obviously troubled mind. "Do you think yourself capable?" He does not answer but looks at me partially over his shoulder. I sigh, realising what exactly he is getting at. "I am strong enough to resist you, and could have stopped what happened at any point that night. I didn't though, so don't concern yourself with that."

Hopefully that was enough. My willingness to be taken by Kakarrot six months ago is not something I really want dissected, especially right now. His uneasy look does not leave though and I half expect him to crawl to my side and pull me to him like he always does when troubled. He does not move though and I will not reach out for him. If a lack of contact makes it easier for him to express his thoughts right now then I will encourage it.

"But I still forced myself onto you, and I'm still doing it. I always reach for you when you clearly don't want me to. But you let me anyway." Now he sounds deeply troubled and the feeling is beginning to knaw at me too. I really am too tired to deal with this.

I don't want to admit that I do not respond to him as is expected for fear of encouraging the feeling, nor do I want to say that I don't want him to stop reaching for me. I've become almost dependent on it now, loathe as I am to admit it. These are thoughts that I have and continue to keep to myself. Therefore my answer is as vague as I can make within acceptable limits. "We are mates, Kakarrot, as much as that irritates me. It is normal to act with me like this, and to an extent it is required. Your presence takes the edge off of the pains and discomfort your son brings me, and I'll be damned if I put up with them alone. In no way are you forcing yourself onto me."

Finally through the cloth of his Gi I see some of the tension leak from his shoulders. He twists to face me properly, still looking miserable, and I slowly open my arm to him. Smiling thinly, he takes the invitation and lies against my chest, his hands cupped awkwardly against his chest. I find this position strange given the intimacy of how we've slept for weeks, and oddly uncomfortable. Damning my own emotional weakness to Hell, I reach out and take one of his hands and place it upon my stomach where our son is bumping about with a lot more gentleness than normal.

Another smile but this one looks bitter. This is very frustrating. He is perpetually happy and when he isn't it is as if nothing will content him. Running my thumb across his knuckles, I fidget minutely as my back screams its aching torment at me.

"Vegeta," he murmurs into my bare chest, his breath prickling my skin although I show no sign of it. "What's going on between us?"

Kakarrot has asked the question that I am most ill equipped and unwilling to try and answer, and I see no need to say anything other than that. Having it known that this confusion is mutual will hopefully save on future trouble until things are resolved, although how exactly that resolution will come about is both a mystery and a source of anxiety for me. "If I knew that I'd be infinitely more relaxed. Go to sleep. Nothing else needs to be said tonight."

Kakarrot mumbles something unintelligible and a quick glance down confirms that he has fallen to sleep. I don't know if he heard what I said but I certainly hope he did. I do not know if a situation where I can say it again will come up and I couldn't bear to be so straightforward about this to him otherwise.

He is heavy on my chest and although uncomfortable the awkward position and the desire not to awake him keeps me still. Resigned to spending an uncomfortable night, I brush the hand that had been stroking his through his unruly hair before propping it behind my head. Sleep will be long coming for me now despite my exhaustion, and I doubt if it will be very restful.

,,,,,,,,,

Upon waking the next morning, Vegeta found himself suffused with pain. Not the pain of the baby having kicked the same organ all night, nor the pain of his pelvis being shoved ever wider, but the pain of every muscle in his back clenching into individually constricted balls that ground against each other impossibly. His breath catching in his throat when he tried to move, he almost whimpered when the baby kicked at the niche it had been carving itself in his spine, adding further to the agony.

Goku had only been dozing lightly when he heard the pain-suffused breathing of the small Saiyan and shifted upright immediately, the movement earning a groan from the other as his body was rocked on the bed. "Vegeta? What's wrong?" They estimated the birth to be only four weeks away now and so the larger Saiyan had found himself extremely anxious over any pain the other suffered.

"My back's seized up," Vegeta hissed between clenched teeth, afraid to move anything that might cause the pain to spike. He had to move at some point though, that he knew, but hopefully not for a while. He was sure that if he tried to stand he would retch.

Concern twisting his features, Goku slid as gently off the bed as he could and went into the adjoining bathroom. Turning on the shower to get the water running hot, he stripped to his shorts and returned to Vegeta's side of the bed, gently easing his arms beneath the smaller man and preparing to lift him. This had happened once with Chichi whilst heavily pregnant when she had slept awkwardly during the night, and Goku felt a twang of guilt that he had made it impossible for Vegeta to sleep more comfortably.

He could worry about that later though, he decided, carefully lifting Vegeta off of the bed. His mate did cry out at this, blunt fingers digging hard into his flesh as he gripped instinctually. Goku quickly moved him into the bathroom and got them inside the shower and under the hot spray, nudging the door shut behind him with his foot and then judging how best to proceed. Vegeta had put both arms about his neck and now had to straighten his back, although that would prove to hurt incredibly. It needed to be done though and he would take the Prince's weight until the pain subsided.

Shifting his grip, Goku held Vegeta's chest tightly to his as he tilted his body and gently placed his feet on the floor. Moving his hand from the soaked cloth at his hip, he began to gently rub up and down the taut back, moving them so that Vegeta's back took the brunt of the spray. The smaller man trembled against him, his throat locked down about sounds of pain that were desperate to escape.

After several minutes of this the pain finally ebbed down from its dizzying crescendo and although by no means gone it was now more bearable. Shifting in Goku's grip to test taking his own weight, Vegeta was pleased to find that although it hurt it was doable. Unwinding his arms from about the other's neck, he braced himself with one against the shower wall and placed the other protectively over his stomach.

No longer holding Vegeta but rather supporting him, Goku took the showerhead from the wall and bought it close to the other's back; directing the spray in small, sluggish circles. His left hand held the Saiyan steady at his ribcage beneath his arm, looking down at Vegeta's closed eyes and slightly parted lips as he breathed slowly and steadily, working through the pain. His eyes didn't detract from Vegeta's face as he replaced the showerhead onto its bracket on the wall, bringing his now free hand up over water-slick skin and, for reasons unknown, cupping the slack jaw.

Vegeta's barely opened to slits as his head was gently tipped up, only knowing what was happening when Goku pressed their mouths firmly together. It was chaste although his mouth had been open, and he dizzily wondered where that had come from. Ignoring the initial niggling urge to shove the larger Saiyan away, he ran with the overwhelming instinct that urged him on and tipped his head better into the kiss.

When Goku opened his own mouth to him and they met somewhere in the middle, desire suddenly suffused him along with the familiar warmth that now hummed through his nerves headier and hotter than ever before. Large hands moved to run across and beneath his stomach before travelling to his back, down to his thighs and then slowly up to bury themselves in his soaked hair against his scalp. Rather than using the wall to hold himself upright, Vegeta returned to using Goku as a support, wrapping an arm about the man's waist and running the hand that had been at his stomach up his broad back.

Finally the need to breath broke them apart, Goku bringing his hands out of Vegeta's hair to rest on his hips and the smaller man finally opened his eyes to display an obvious perplexity at what had just happened. There was no malice or aggression though, no immediate sign of rejection and it made Goku's heart swell. He felt his blood run suddenly cold when all colour suddenly drained out of Vegeta's face though, and the Prince's fingers tightened in alarm against his flesh as he struggled to hold onto consciousness. It was a loosing battle though; the fatigued Saiyan's vision assaulted with black spots as a pressure increased about his skull before his eyes rolled and his muscles fell slack.

Goku caught him easily, turning off the water and getting them both out of the shower and back to the bed. Fetching two towels, he bundled one up and laid it beneath Vegeta's knees on top of a pillow and used the second to dab away the moisture leaving the shower so abruptly had left on them. He was not overly concerned with this faint. Vegeta had blacked out several times recently from a combination of exhaustion and the sheer strains the baby put on his body, and he woke fine from every one. Nothing was different this time.

Working part of the towel he held in one hand across the Prince's lax cheeks and mouth, Goku shivered as the last vestiges of warmth from their kiss faded away. He didn't know what had possessed him to do it but it had felt more right and natural than anything had in a long time. The fact that Vegeta had returned it, straining against him equally respectful of how much his wrecked back would allow, relieved him no end and promised him that there was hope between them yet.

,,,,,,,,,

Personally, this is my favourite chapter so far. Had a lot of fun with it. Hope you've enjoyed it and if you have any comments or criticisms please jot them in a review. Thanks again!


	5. Keep talking

This chapter is at least a page shorter than usual, I know.  It's simply that there was more but I felt it needed to go with Chapter 6, and where this now ties up is satisfying in its own right.  So, a standard length chapter next time or perhaps a slightly longer one.

Terrible to write due to characters not willing to talk to each for days, some parts of this have been redrafted six or seven times, but then others took less time.  So if parts of this don't mesh quite smoothly or feel less polished than the previous few paragraphs, that's why.

Oh, and for the few people who have been guessing about the purpose of the knife, you're all wrong.  Completely and utterly.  You'll find out next chapter anyway so just give up guessing.

A shout of thanks goes out to **Purple-Moonlight **(Glad you enjoyed the chapter), **GutterBall**(Deep characters acknowledging each other's depth?  I did that?  Cool.   You were deserving of the shout out, and your lovely words are still making me grin), **DJ Silence Yuy **(Yes, I quite like the shower part, and the knife isn't that odd really as you'll find out.  It's not completely conventional though, I assure you), **Sandalino Silvio Leif **(Request fulfilled), **Tatoosh** (Wrong about the knife, and yes, being babied when you're like Vegeta is extremely irritating), **ClosetFreak** (Knife mystery solved in the next chapter, and yes, there is a weird little relationship forming.  It has quite a way to go yet though), **littlefox1227 **(Glad you like.  Request fulfilled), **Ice Maiden (**Yes, Vegeta does need someone to rely on. Doesn't necessarily mean that he will though.  This chapter is of a different nature to last time so I don't know if it'll be 'better'.  Different, definitely),

**CharcoalCat** (Not really being selfish by chucking out long chapters quickly; I just have a good time writing this and I want it done quite quickly so I don't loose steam.  Krillin bit was quite important and it took a while to fine-tune that scene, and don't jump to any conclusions on that knife.  It's not a huge deal, but I like to mislead.  The guessing is getting irritating now though. ; You've taken a huge amount of insight into this and I'm really flattered by it as well as hugely appreciative.  I hope you find this chapter satisfying), **andromeda90 **('One already has this plot'?  Hmm.  Haven't seen it, and I've pretty much read every DBZ mpreg that's easily found and a few I had to dig deep for.  This story won't cover much more than a few days now, although an epilogue of some description might come into play.  This story isn't about a pregnancy and then a child by any stretch) and **Goddess Shimi** (You love it, huh?  And give Trunks back; I need him).

A secondary and very deserved thanks to Gutterball and Charcoalcat.  Gutterball, I'd like to think we're friends now, and it's been wonderful so far having these little chats.  Thanks for the inspiration.  And Charcoalcat, for emailing me specifically with kind words and a touching question I couldn't not give you special mention.  Looking forward to hearing from you again soon, and I hope you and Gutterball enjoy this update.

Chapter 5

I can tell he's still in the room.  He knows I'm awake but is neither moving nor making a sound, waiting for me to do something as I wade through a mental quagmire to bring my mind and body back to full awareness.  I hate blacking out but waking up is worse, particularly now as the usual nausea that follows is increased by the pain still lancing up by back.  I need to move but I've been rendered pretty much paralyzed.  It hurts to continue to lie on my back and the sooner I get these knots out the better.

"Kakarrot."  The word is a request and an instruction in one, hopefully exerting my desire to have this pain taken from me by any means.  Opening my eyes when I feel his hands shifting beneath me, I fix my gaze on the ceiling as he sits me up before turning me neatly onto my stomach.  He then moves to straddle my thighs before his hands begins running along my back before working in slow, firm motions that hurt like white fire but promise ease when it's over.

He doesn't speak as he works and I refuse to be the one to break the silence.  What happened last night has made me very uneasy and I prefer silence to trying to talk about it, which is what I know the idiot wants.  Why'd he have to do it?  And the bigger question is why did I let him?

It's getting worse, this bond, this instinct, this _desire_, and no matter how hard I work to quash it, it isn't going away.  And what's worse, Kakarrot seems to be embracing it as I reject it, which is just encouraging the damn thing!  It'll get worse, I know, but I will not bow down to it.  I have commitments here with my own family and just because fate decided to throw a child fathered by Kakarrot into the mix does not mean I will abandon them.  I am many things, most of them bad, but I am loyal and I wont change that for some selfish desire that my body is incurring. 

My mind goes blissfully quiet, thinking quite impossible as Kakarrot wrestles out the larger knots for almost an hour, and I find myself beginning to drowse.  Normally I would refuse sleeping under Kakarrot's ministrations but so close to being full-term now I'm constantly tired and sorely need to.  It'll also give him some time to think things over.  He has a nasty habit of trying to speak when he hasn't got things straight in his own mind and ends up making an even bigger mess than before.

Allowing myself to drift off fully, I half hope that I don't wake up in the lab as I have a rather irritating tendency to do.  I also hope that he won't be here later.  I need to talk to Bulma or meditate for a few hours before speaking to him. 

,,,,,,,,,

Goku wasn't sure how long he had remained sitting on the bed once he was done working on Vegeta's back, which in itself had been a full hour after he had noted the Prince falling to sleep.  Remaining in this room with the object -or objects to be more precise- of his confusions and frustrations was not helping him think straight in the slightest, but he couldn't bring himself to leave.  He didn't really have anywhere to go and wherever he did take himself his mind would remain here, fretting and concerned. On some level he wanted to regret their moment of intimacy in the shower as it had certainly raised problems, but he could not help but see the incident as anything but wonderful. 

Vegeta's own feelings on the kiss were a mystery to him.  At the time he hadn't resisted and had even embraced it, but then Vegeta also embraced a lot of other things that they did.  Afterwards though he seemed to have completely disregarded it.  Granted, not a lot of time had passed, but it was something that needed to be discussed and although he had only been awake fleetingly, he Vegeta didn't seem very inclined to discuss it.  Like Goku holding him at night, it appeared as if the Prince was acting upon the theory of 'if ignored, it'll go away'.

Groaning in frustration as his mind circled upon itself without making any sort of leeway, Goku scrubbed through his hair vigorously before standing, deciding that a brief walk outside would do him some good and he'd definitely be back here for when Vegeta finally awoke.  He felt the urge to fuss a little before he actually left though, and thus proceeded to do so.

Over the last fortnight particularly, Vegeta had gotten into a funny habit of 'nesting' before going to sleep.  Goku hadn't commented as he could see the benefits of it in terms of comfort, and he also found it kind of cute.  Deciding to mimic how Vegeta had been arranging the bedding before leaving, Goku began collecting up pillows.  The number had eventually tripled as pillows were scrounged up from all over the place until the pregnant Saiyan was satisfied, and each one was slightly different and had its own place.  The meticulous fussiness was so absurd that no one dared to comment on it, and Vegeta was content with that.

It was all about arranging and supporting his over-strained back, Goku mused as he dropped the last of the pillows into a pile and gently turned Vegeta back over onto his back.  The thin one he slid beneath the Saiyan's knees straightened and brought his spine into a more natural position that was being thrown off with the extra weight he carried on his front.  Two thicker pillows laying at right angles to each other at the head of the bed lifted his shoulders and supported his head, easing the pressure.  Finally, a pillow either side of his waist meant that if he rolled onto his side in his sleep the swell of his stomach would be comfortably supported. 

Goku didn't object to all the cushioning as he found himself tangled in it all as well as the blanket and quilt anyway, which was quite comfortable.  Anything that eased Vegeta's discomfort he didn't mind and encouraged.  He was aware that pregnancy itself was a strain, but it was even moreso for the Prince given his small body that, despite having conceived naturally, was simply not designed to carry a child.  Still, he was managing and there wasn't long left.

Biting the inside of his cheek when he realised that he couldn't realistically procrastinate anymore as he'd done everything here, Goku glanced about the room once more before collecting up his boots and leaving.  He locked the door behind him as he left, putting on his shoes outside and then making his way down the corridor. 

A call of "Dad?" from behind him made him stop and turn. It was Gohan, dressed smartly in a grey suit with his hair in mild disarray, indicating that he'd just flown over from the office.  He approached cautiously as if fearing that he was intruding on something but still with a quiet confidence.  It was rare for the eldest Son to seek out his father when he was supposed to be at work so he had obviously come with some intent.  Frankly, Goku was a little surprised at the sudden visit, but he didn't smell or sense any distress from his son.

"Gohan," he acknowledged with a smile, deciding to take some pleasure in the rare treat.  "What are you doing here?"

At the question Gohan rubbed absently at the back of his neck, the action frighteningly similar to his father's, enough so to make Goku quirk an amused brow.  "I was kinda hoping I could talk to you about, well, _everything_."  He looked decidedly awkward now, as if he really didn't want to start this conversation but felt that he should.  The whole situation made him very anxious, enough so to push him to take a long lunch and seek out his father to resolve some of said anxieties.  They were too distracting to just be left, and he had a feeling that the older Saiyan would take as much relief in talking as he would.

Goku nodded slowly, noting the underlining meaning in the statement.  "So you've heard."  It was not a question, and he knew that it would have been Krillin that had told him about he and Vegeta.  Piccolo would have remained silent, he was certain.  He could figure that out without anything else being said.  He had been worried about having this particular conversation with his eldest.  Gohan was mature, intelligent and he had loved his mother, which all promised to make the knowledge that his father was having another child with someone else -and a man to boot- very difficult not to rebel against.  He was definitely taking the sensible approach in coming to him like this, though.  What he said and did over the next hour would be hugely influential upon his son, Goku had no doubt.  "Come," he beckoned simply, his tone flat.

Reaching out for Gohan, he Instant Transported them a couple of miles away up into the mountains, intending to have as much peace and tranquility about them as possible for this discussion.  There was also the unspoken bonus that if either of them didn't like what the other said to the extent where they powered up or did something equally rash there was no one around that they could hurt.

Dropping down into the cold grass near the precipice of a particularly beautiful outcropping of rock, Goku sat near his son and twisted to watch him, their legs dangling over the ledge into the air.  Their presence had dislodged several small stones that were now plummeting down the precipice, and he observed his son silently watching their descent.  "So what's on your mind?"  That seemed a fairly safe and open place to start, allowing Gohan to dictate where they started.  This way they'd definitely get everything covered.

Gohan gave a bitter, humourless laugh, still not looking at him.  "Way too much."  Smiling sympathetically, Goku put a hand on his shoulder and left it there, remaining silent as the other continued.  "I don't need to tell you that this whole thing is really weird.  I mean, Vegeta _pregnant_ was one thing but you and him is something else entirely."  He trailed off thoughtfully, obviously weighing up whether he should say what he wanted to next and finally deciding to just let rip and see what happened. 

"It doesn't bother me as much as it could have.  I mean, since mum's gone you can do what you want.  I'd just hate to think that this happened whilst she was still alive."  He now met Goku's gaze seriously, watching intently for the slightest hint of deceit.  He wouldn't have his mother's memory smeared, even if it was by his father.  "I love you dad, but I don't know if I could forgive you for that."

Goku felt a swell of pride at the fiercely protective words for his deceased wife, but cast it aside for the moment.  Squeezing the shoulder in his palm firmly, reassuringly, he did not back down from the stare.  He had no reason to.  "This all came about because of your mother's death more than anything else."  He withdrew his hand now as the strength of his own feelings surprised him, breaking the stare and looking off into the distance.  He wasn't particularly shy really, but how does one explain how mourning can lead to sex to their own child?  Another glance and a simple realisation hit him: he's not a child.  He could understand. 

"I was grieving, and to escape that I got into a lot of fights with Vegeta straight after it happened, just to sink into old rhythms and to vent my frustrations over not being able to do anything about it."  He paused, his mind inevitably drifting back to the first night when he encountered an empty bed and a quiet house.  He'd been unable to sleep like that and frequently escaped it.  Both his sons had noticed but they were all grieving in their own ways and no one commented upon each other's methods, essentially because they were too lost in their own.  There was support for each other, of course, but they all grieved alone.

Taking a steadying breath, Goku continued firmly.  "It was an aneurysm; a natural death, and the knowledge that I couldn't do anything to bring her back like I've done for so many people before...  Well, I couldn't handle it.   Vegeta understood that and he let me vent on him.  We never talked about it and he never asked questions; he just let me scrap with him."  He laughed bitterly, looking up at the sky as the memories continued.  "I had to carry him back to Capsule Corp. so many times I'm surprised Bulma didn't have my head."

Absorbing all of this quietly, Gohan was quite content to just sit and listen.  This hadn't answered his questions yet nor had it really helped at all, but he was starting to understand a little.  His father had, understandably, taken Chichi's death hardest yet he couldn't burden his sons with any of that whilst they themselves were grieving like they had never done before in their lives.  Goku had pretty much vanished for the first few days when Chichi had passed, and when they did see him he was bruised and bloody. 

Vegeta and he were push-and-shove sort of friends, which had evidently made the Prince a likely confidant.  He wouldn't offer useless sympathy or a shoulder to cry on.  No, the Prince and his father were Saiyan; a warrior race.  Goku didn't understand that most of the time but Vegeta did, and he was more than willing to make Goku grieve like a Saiyan, which was what he'd unconsciously needed.  Personally Piccolo would have been his first guess for a supporting figure, but in retrospect Vegeta made more sense.  His father could bottle emotions he didn't know what to do with, such as sadness and frustration, whereas Vegeta expressed them with a violent passion.  No, he couldn't hold a lot against him.  Like it or not, Vegeta had only been helping.

Pleased that Gohan was letting him speak at his own pace and wasn't prompting with questions or presumptions, Goku smiled thinly.  He had wanted to paint a true picture of events before coming to the main issue.  It was the only way that his son would understand, and hopefully, accept.  "One night -and I'm still not completely sure what happened- the fight got more vicious. In every other fight before I didn't let go completely, more or less because I was afraid of what I'd do.  Vegeta goaded me worse than ever, tried to get me to snap, and it worked.  It was all about instinct after that; the need to fight, the need to win, and in the end, the need to dominate.  What happened after that was just the next logical step," he added thoughtfully, although the vagueness in his words matched events that night.

One moment there had been violent punches to the Prince's midsection as they tussled in a tangled heap amongst the rocks, the next an unexpected and very restraining bite to the nape of Vegeta's neck and then heat and passion.  He still felt strange about having bitten him.  He didn't like to bite when fighting; it felt too animalistic.  Vegeta had seemed more than happy to do it when it was the most effective available option in a lock, and Goku had begun almost inadvertently reciprocating thereafter.  It was his bite that had started it though, his claim of dominance that ignited the confusing act that followed.

He looked back to his son who had not yet taken his eyes off of him, his tone serious and his words measured.  He didn't want to relay feelings of regret for all of this that did not exist.  "This baby was something that neither of us could have possibly foreseen, and maybe things might have been different if we'd known there was a chance.  There was nothing between us at all before that night though."

And that was the big question in Gohan's mind, the one that really niggled.  The rest, what he was now satisfied about, was about his mother's honour and his father's morals, and that was the past.  This was what would have a big impact on the family's future, indeed both families'.  "And what about now?"

Goku offered a grimly bemused grin, splaying his hands in a gesture that was both clueless and helpless.  The universe's twisted sense of humour must have been getting a right kick in bringing him back to this question that plagued him, he mused to himself.  It had always had a sick idea of comedy.  "I really don't know.  It's complicated."

Finding a weird sense of curiosity and intrigue pushing himself to ask his next question, Gohan lent forward onto his knees almost eager to pick this apart.  This was all very strange to him, but little in his life was really normal so he figured that he might as well just run with this and hope for the best.  If Vegeta could make his father happy then so be it.  He'd support it once he came around to the idea.  "Do you want there to be?"

The older Saiyan's expression turned serious.  "We're mates, Gohan, and that seems to be a direct result of this pregnancy rather than of mutual desire.  I want something more because it feels right and natural, like there's a bond, but Vegeta's rejecting it and I don't think he'll come around."

Gohan nodded slightly, seeing the predicament.  Approaching it through a fairly analytical method seemed to be his best method, as trying to do sensitive pondering with his father about this would be very awkward to say the least.  "It's hard, and I can see where Vegeta's coming from with this.  He's got a family, a wife," he modified quickly, catching the look.  "So if he embraced the fact that you're mates then he'd be cheating on Bulma.  All right, he did that once already but he didn't seem to plan that.  He's loyal to her and the children to the last." 

Groaning when he realized that all he had done was reiterate the problem in detail without actually solving anything, Gohan scrubbed his face with his hands for a moment.  Deciding to try a different approach, he broached the question that seemed to be on everyone's minds.  "What's going to happen once the baby's born?  It's yours as much as it is his."  

Goku frowned a little at that, his gaze dropping minutely.  "I don't think Vegeta sees it like that.  He didn't tell me for months and then it was only because I all but demanded to know.  He's said more than once that he doesn't need my help, but this bond is definitely helping whether he wants to admit it or not.  No, if worse comes to worse and he rejects me completely, he'll fight for sole custody."

"So the question is do you want to try to reason with him, step aside or find a way to compromise?" Gohan concluded pensively, finding himself feeling far more sympathy for his father now than he had started out with.  This really was a difficult situation on many levels, and it was Vegeta's stubbornness that was causing a lot of heartache.  He refused to leave his family and thus refused to accept Goku as his mate, and with the birth due so soon they were all cutting it fine to find a resolution.

Deciding that he now had more than enough to think about out of this conversation, Goku directed the topic away from his struggling relationship onto something that also needed some attention.  "How's Goten taking it?  I think he's been avoiding me."

Shaking his head immediately, Gohan spoke assuredly.  "He hasn't been avoiding you at all.  He's just been sticking with Trunks; I've caught them talking about all of this.  They seem to be dealing with it okay with each other's help.  They think that if you and Vegeta get together they'll be brothers and they're quite excited about that, and their new brother on the way of course.  They're already trying to figure out how long it'll take a baby full-blooded Saiyan to ascend and when they can start helping to train him.  It's quite sweet actually."

Goku smiled thinly at that, his eyes returning to the horizon.  "Given how much Vegeta is suffering, I'd say that he's pretty strong already.  It could only be a couple of years until we can start teaching him the basics.  You and Goten both started pretty young."

"A family of warriors," Gohan commented quietly, his own smile dropping minutely.  "Mum would never approve.  She hated how we were always off saving the planet and whatever."  The eldest son trailed off quietly and swallowed heavily, noting with a pang that his father had nothing to say to that and was completely still as he stared off at nothing. "How's Bulma?"

The elder Saiyan shifted rather dramatically at that, planting his hands behind him in the grass-littered rock and tipping his weight back onto them.  "I'm not sure. She knows, definitely, but I don't think she's said anything to either of us.  Definitely not me.  I've sorta been waiting for an explosion."

Humming thoughtfully, Gohan tested a few words to say to that before deciding there was nothing he really could say.  This was his father's and Vegeta's mess and to get himself entangled in that to any great extent would only make things worse. "Well, whatever happens, we're right behind you, and Vegeta for that matter." A grin; it didn't quite meet his eyes but it was still genuine.  "One big family."

"Yeah," Goku murmured, although there was some measure of pride in his words.  His third son was due in less than a week, and nothing could change that.  He'd be strong, possibly even moreso than either of his parents.  Fighters would come from all corners of the universe for the challenge, and he and Vegeta will have trained him well for them.

Taking a shallow breath, Goku cocked a brow and looked to Gohan with a smile.  "So, how's work?"

'''''''''''''''

When I awoke it was not, thank Kami, in the infirmary, but in my own bed, right down to the assortment of pillows that had been arranged around my body in a very familiar manner.  Kakarrot always was overly considerate and although it bothers me immensely that he moved me whilst I was asleep, I am very appreciative of the gesture.  Although not back to as pain-free as this pregnancy will allow, my body feels immensely better that it did yesterday.  Extending my sense, I am again relieved to find that he is nowhere nearby.  I want time to think and I'll do that better if he's away from me. 

Sitting up, I hiss at the soreness running beneath my stomach, a new discomfort to add to an extremely long list.  Pulling the sheets aside, I probe with my hands to the underside of the bump where I cannot see, a muscle by my eye twitching as my exploring fingers serve to increase the sensation tenfold.  Bulma had said that my skin in this area was changing colour, and it feels very tender now and slightly rougher to touch. 

I catch a very faint smell of blood and when I withdraw my hand I see minute traces on my fingertips.  It's such a small amount that I wouldn't have noticed had I not smelt it.  There doesn't seem to be a tear or any kind and the pain isn't bad; I've probably just rubbed a few layers of ridiculously sensitive and delicate skin away with my touching.  Nothing severe, although I do decide to wrap the area to stop myself staining my clothes and to provide some padding should having material against the tender flesh make it worse.  Standing, I find myself snorting at the irony that although I didn't wake in the infirmary, I'm still going to end up there anyway.

Dressing in the loosest clothes I own, I find to my displeasure that the material _does_ make it worse, and make my way through Capsule Corp. with a quicker step than normal.  Pleased to find that no one is in the medical lab, I quickly place a bundle of gauze against the bottom of my stomach and wrap it securely in place with bandages.

Pulling my shirt back down and contemplating my profile in the reflective panel of some machine, I'm pleased to note that the dressing isn't noticeable.  Having people knowing and subsequently fussing over this would certainly shred the last bits of my tenuous tether.  Staring at my reflection, I also note that my stomach has, impossibly, reduced in size.  It's still too large for my liking, certainly, but it looks like the child has been pulled up and back into my body.  The fact that I can feel my growling stomach sitting above the baby even higher than before serves to confirm my observation.  Deciding to pester Bulma about it later, I leave the lab and head towards the kitchen.

Trunks is there, eating more than I could presently manage alone at the large table.  His meal looks like a hybrid of breakfast and lunch, although designating times and names to meals is not something I'm particularly flustered about.  Saiyans eat when hungry and that's about the extent of it.

I pass behind him towards the fridge, barely acknowledging him, and set about making myself a sandwich.  There's no way he could manage the spread on the table by himself but I wouldn't pick at his meal.  I certainly wouldn't appreciate it if it were me, and looking at the grease half the food is swimming in, I don't think my body or this baby would like it anyway. 

Sitting at an angle to him, I take a bite of my sandwich and watch with vague bemusement as Trunks continues to eat. Ordinarily he'd never, without a doubt, be able to outdo me at a meal.  Now though, I'm too tired and uncomfortable to particularly give a damn.  The woman was nagging about my weight only the other day, apparently aggravated by the fact that I'm no longer inflating like a balloon.   I eat as much as I am able though, and she cannot fight me over that.

I get through half of my sandwich with neither of us speaking before the child moves in a way that sets off alarm bells.  Putting the food down, I use one hand to brace against my flesh where the gauze is wrapped and watch as my abdomen disfigures horribly before going back to a smooth, soft bump.  My stomach enjoys the movement as much as my mind enjoyed the sight of it.  That's that meal ruined then.  I hate it when he does that.

Shoving my plate away in exasperation, I look up at Trunks when I notice that he's no longer eating.  Rather, he is gaping at my stomach and has gone decidedly pale.  Not in an understanding or sympathising mood by any stretch of the imagination, I raise a condescending brow and bark, "what" sharply.

He jumps a little before meeting my eyes, his voice stronger than I had expected it to be.  "What was that?"

I shift minutely in the seat, my unborn son slapping me for it.  The movement sounds inconsequential, but with pure Saiyan blood and his hand striking my abused stomach from beneath, it most certainly isn't.  "He rolled," I finally answer, suddenly realizing that I haven't actually talked to Trunks about any of this.  He hasn't exactly asked, but then quizzing your father about his sexual escapades isn't something commonly done.

Trunks nods a little, the colour returning to his face.  He looks a lot older than he actually is now, rooting himself in logical reasoning and understanding.  He has his mother's brain.   "Does it hurt?"

The words hold volumes of sincerity and concern, and I curl my tail about the chair leg so that I won't reach for him as it is twitching to do so.  "No, it's just uncomfortable.  He doesn't do it often, and when he does, it's only once."  I regard my sandwich again and decide against it when my throat clenches. 

Nodding slightly, Trunks appears more at ease although he's obviously not completely satisfied.  He pokes at his food a little as I surreptitiously touch at the dressing about my waist.  I can tell that that particularly violent movement shredded a lot more skin and that the bleeding has increased.  Again, it's minute and I likely wouldn't have noticed if I were not already aware of it.  Apparently I'm starting to get paranoid.

"Dad?"  Hesitance now.  I hate that tone.  I know it has something attached to it that I'm not going to enjoy.  A look is all I give him to tell him to continue if he dares.  "Can I feel it?  Just for a second?"

It's his eyes that do it; the damn wide things making my resolve crumble.  I would have allowed him anyway, but my pride would have been soothed by my telling it that it had been a grudging acquiescence, rather than this fuzzy bonding moment shite.

I don't want him to touch the dressing as that would hurt too much to resist clipping the brat about the ear, so I silently take his right hand from the tabletop and place it to the side of my distended stomach.  There's a soft exhalation from him as I release his hand, leaving him touching the thin barrier of flesh between the outside world and what I estimate to be the baby's arm.  His fingers splay a little and I feel a slight increase in pressure as Trunks explores a little, his ki humming as he extends his senses to probe within my abdomen.

"It doesn't feel like I thought it would," he announces after a moment, catching me off guard as I had been sitting considering the moment.  My son touching his unborn brother in my body.  I believe I can be excused for calling all of this surreal.  In answer to his statement I opt to say nothing, allowing him to continue.  "I thought it would be, y'know, hard, but it's really soft.  And I can feel the baby really well.  I think that's an arm."

I feel a shift and the dull ache in my taut skin picks up as another limb moves.  I'm still unsettled by it despite having felt his movements for weeks now.  "And that'll be his tail," I state flatly, feeling the appendage swirl gently before falling still again.  I think he's actually facing down now which is a new development.  Definitely a warning sign that his time in there is almost up.

"Wow," Trunks murmurs, eyes still fixed on his hand.  He frowns for a moment, obviously thinking quite intently before opening his mouth to speak.  "Dad?  Do you think I could do this as well?"

That's an interesting question.  I'm not sure what I think about it either.  "I don't know," I admit, shifting in the chair a little as what feels like a cramp swells up on my right side.  The boy takes the movement as a sign to remove his hand and promptly does so, and I find myself surprised at the sudden coolness where his palm had just lain.  "We'll have your mother check you at some point.  Now she has a fair idea of what to look for she should be able to tell you."

He absorbs the answer silently, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and holding it there.  This cramp has become quite bad now.  "How is mum about all this?"

I can sense his discomfort in those words, and the confusion about this has been around for quite a while.  He needs an answer, if anything just to stop him wondering.  "She's dealing with it.  She's pissed, but then I hadn't expected anything else.  I don't know what's going to happen when this brat's born though."

The cramp has reached a level of pain which I can't continue to just ignore and I find myself standing from it, instinctively testing a new posture to see if it'll ease.  It won't, but then I hadn't expected it to be that straightforward.  Trunks's brows jump as he must have sensed it, beginning to rise to his feet as well.  I wave him back into his seat.  "It's just a cramp."

"It might not be."  A new voice now, deep and devoid of all humour.  I look up to the doorway and see Piccolo pretty much filling the space, his eyes narrow and his mouth set.  I know that he's probably right but it's not a thought I enjoy contemplating.  He picks up on my hesitance and continues before I can get a word out, his eyes darting to Trunks for a second before setting on me.  "Come on; let's walk it off."

I give Trunks a cursory glance before moving about the table and through the doorway, Piccolo standing aside to let me pass and then following silently.  I will finish this conversation with my son later but for now his half brother demands my attention. 

,,,,,,,

Yeah, this whole thing was about father/son conversations more than anything else, and getting Goku and Gohan sorted was my main focus.  Next chapter could be anything from a week to five as it's not letting itself be written right now.  Most of this appeared last night.  Should be okay.  Anyway, hope you've all been entertained.  Do leave any comments you might have in a review.  Thanks.


	6. I'm feeling week now

An absurdly long time since I last updated this, but better late than never.

**Chapter 6**

They walked in silence for twenty minutes, their unspecified path taking them away from the complex and out onto the greenbelt, heading in the general direction of the mountains. Those were a two minute flight away though, and there was no way they were to walk that far today. The pain knawing at Vegeta's side had ebbed before finally leaving, the baby throwing itself into a flurry of movement to seemingly make up for it right afterwards.

They had reached the edge of a small forest when Piccolo finally spoke, the tall Namek not looking at the Saiyan as he walked. Indeed his mind was half directed to the rather obvious changes he could sense occurring in the other's body, the rest of his attention checking the area for Goku. "I have some herbs you might find useful."

The prince raised a brow curiously, his hand touching lightly at the underside of his stomach. The smell of blood was getting stronger however Piccolo didn't seem to have noticed. It didn't hurt; not whatever was bleeding anyway. The new wave of cramps that had started in the last few minutes hadn't eased up yet though. This had happened before much earlier in the pregnancy, muscles clenching and twisting in ways that he didn't enjoy, but back then he hadn't known. Now though… At least he could still fly fairly quickly if need be.

A ghost of a smile appeared now on Piccolo's face, one that promised to grow in the very immediate future. His eyes were still fixed ahead of them. "They should make lactating less uncomfortable."

Vegeta actually stopped walking with a frown, replaying the words in his head to be sure that the Namek really _had _said that. To _him_. When he was quite certain that he hadn't imagined the audacious statement, he bit out one terse word. "What?"

Piccolo dared to look amused, laughing internally at the incensed expression on the prince's face as he too stopped and looked back over his shoulder to respond. "If you chew the leaves whilst feeding him you won't be sore afterwards." Vegeta was actually trembling now, a light, continuous twitch running up the length of his arms and across his shoulders, his mouth tight and his eyes dark. The taller man was already anticipating the punch, but he'd push a little more first. "I've seen you bare-chested thousands of times, Vegeta. It sure looks like you'll be able to feed the little brat."

Taking an aggressive step forward to silence Piccolo via the careful procedure of removing his ability to speak, Vegeta instead halted with a hiss and a grimace as his hand returned to his side. When he had stopped walking the cramps had picked up again, enough so to actually be distracting. The Namek seemed to gather as much, his smirk sliding off his features. "Come on, let's keep moving."

Without a word Vegeta nodded and fell into pace again, the pair spending the next few minutes skirting the edge of the wood until the came to a river, turning left at it and heading back in the general direction they had come from. The Saiyan still kept a hand hovering close to his stomach, tracking the scent of blood carefully and studiously ignoring his randomly clenching muscles. His tail snapped slowly from side to side about his knees, the urge to wrap it around his waist strong but quashed.

"You're sure that those are _just_ cramps?" Piccolo asked almost irritably after watching a giveaway tic at the corner of Vegeta's left eye taper off. He really didn't relish the thought of playing midwife out here. "Because I'm not going to be impressed if you're actually in labor and I have to haul a bloody, screaming whelp out of your gut."

Vegeta gave him a dry look before nodding assuredly. "I'm sure. I know enough about Saiyan births to understand what's going to happen, or at least to make an educated guess."

Piccolo snorted doubtfully. "Pray tell." The fact that he was dealing with a pregnant male played heavily on his mind, and he severely questioned if any of them could make any solid assumptions as to what to expect. He privately hoped that Vegeta was right though, and that normal Saiyan births weren't too dissimilar. Not that he knew anything about those either.

His voice slipping into an almost clinical lecturing tone, Vegeta mentally embraced the chance of a distraction against the unsavory sensations running riot about his stomach. "From what I recall, preliminary discomfort like this can last days. Labor itself takes a while but in the end it's all quite quick, with the mate's help." Vegeta paused at that briefly feeling a pang somewhere about his chest, however he deftly ignored it. "As this only started this morning I've likely still got a bit of time left."

"You've got everything ready? A nursery?" Piccolo spoke lightly now, glancing at the stream they were following and noting the presence of several small fish. He'd interrupted Vegeta's meal quite effectively this morning and it hadn't looked like the prince had eaten much, but the fish were too small to even bother with.

"Bra doesn't need it anymore, so yes, it's all ready," Vegeta answered, his tone sounding absent as he felt the weight on his front pull away what must have only been millimeters. Pausing and quirking a brow when he felt the weight 'drop' in, as it felt to him, a very dramatic fashion, he snorted a brief laugh.

Piccolo glanced down at the Saiyan. "What?" He didn't like the odd expression of mixed bemusement and irritation that had overcome the smaller man's face. Vegeta merely smiled thinly whilst shaking his head dismissively, increasing his pace and setting his gaze on the distant structure of Capsule Corp. He felt in no way inclined to tell the Namek of this 'development', nor anyone for that matter. He doubted he could stomach the attention that followed.

No, for now he'd continue as normal until in a state where assistance was actually required. He knew his body and how much it could tolerate, even if this was a very unnatural position to be in. Dropping his hands back to his sides, Vegeta noted that he'd need to change these bandages now, and probably again in a few hours. This birth was going to be messy on so many levels it was almost sickly amusing.

,

I was right about having to change these bandages. After Piccolo finally left me on my doorstep, I immediately went across to the infirmary and went about unpeeling the saturated mess of cloth which had been starting to itch. The smell is strongly noticeable now that all the gauze and wrapping is gone, but it isn't strictly one of blood. There's something else as well; not something I recognize but not entirely alien. The blood on the gauze is mixed with something although I'm not surprised, so I pin the extra scent down to the second fluid.

Spending a few very sore minutes dabbing the tender area of skin clean, I decide to actually look and see how bad it has become. The bleeding is coming from the underside of my stomach though, an area I haven't been able to see in a good few weeks, so some thought is going to have to go into this.

Hunting about the room, I finally find a moderately sized hand mirror. Bulma eventually put it in here the last time she screeched at me to look at what I'd done to myself this time and I replied that I couldn't because it was on my back. After the thorn incident, the first time she actually used the mirror, I wished she hadn't bothered. Kakarrot and I had been sparring as normal but in a new area, and a particularly underhanded punch of his sent me into a plant that was some sort of cross between a tree and a cactus. Suffice to say I did _not_ relish seeing several dozen three-inch barbed spines sticking out of my back.

The child moves languidly for a moment, bringing me out of the memory, and I maneuver the mirror so that I can see the underside of where it is currently residing. I'm not happy with the sight. A sizeable patch of my skin has turned dark and slightly mottled, the surface rough and a touch from my free hand determines that it is this part that has been causing the discomfort. This isn't where the blood is coming from though. There is a line of almost purple skin where the discolouration ends, running almost entirely from one side of my stomach to the other. The skin seems to have split although it isn't hard, and running my forefinger cleanly across the weeping line doesn't hurt. Strange.

"Missed seeing something?"

Gritting my teeth and dropping my arms to my sides, I glare over my shoulder at the infuriating woman in the doorway. She continues to look bemused and approaches me although I don't turn for her. I don't bother to cover my exposed stomach; there's no point. She'd likely do a better job of wrapping the area anyway.

In front of me now, I watch as she kneels down and feel my hands twitch at the short loud crack her knees make as she does so. Looking at my stomach closely with obvious interest, she stands again and gestures idly to a bed. I obediently sit on its edge as she collects a handful of gizmos, putting them on the mattress next to me.

"Well, that's definitely looking like some sort of birthing canal." Her tone is almost conversational as she gestures to the strip that is bleeding minimally. I'm not worried about the bleeding. I've gone weeks with wounds that bled more than that. "Any problems since I last saw you?"

Bulma picks up a tube that I recognize as she speaks. It's a salve, and I all but worshipped it for a while when my skin was beginning to stretch very dramatically. That was before Kakarrot began to stick so close. I bet these cramps would ease up significantly if he were around. "Just this, and there's been some pain throughout the day."

That catches her interest and she puts the slave aside in favor of her scanner. I make a note to myself to take the tube with me when I leave. A few uncomfortable minutes pass whilst she runs the device over me, dragging the cold metal through the dark area and causing me to have to suppress a hiss. A noise in the back of her throat, and it's one I don't like.

"Vegeta, I'm going to numb some skin here for a minute." Now I'm confused, and a little alarmed. She seems intent though, already drawing up a syringe. This just completes my day. At least the cramps haven't come back since returning.

"Why?" I ask, deciding that I should at least find out what she's planning to do before I stop her. I have no problem with needles, unlike Kakarrot who turns white and scarpers at the mere sight of them. Strongest warrior in the universe my arse. Physically, perhaps, but mentally? I reign supreme. I just don't want that going near my stomach right now, and I have a sneaking suspicion that that is her intent.

Returning with the syringe, Bulma taps it idly to remove the bubbles. I feel the tip of my tail twitch repeatedly at the sight. "There's something under this area of skin, mostly fluid. I'm going to try and drain some off and put it under a microscope."

I feel myself rolling my eyes in irritation at the indirect insult. "Just draw it off, woman. I don't need anything for that." Labor is only a few days off, perhaps hours, and she's fussing about numbing my stomach for a needle? I marvel at her label of 'genius' sometimes. Or perhaps she's just concerned, although I can't see why.

Obediently and with a dark expression, she dumps the syringe beside me and picks up a scalpel instead, taking it out of its packaging in front of me. Ah. I can't really go back now. I can't imagine this taking too long though, and my body heals quickly. Before there's time for me to really register what she's doing, Bulma nicks my stomach with the blade. A minute later she has looked at a drop of something through a microscope and is trying to muffle her giggles. My glare does little to shut her up, although she does see fit to let me in on the joke.

"Vegeta, this is a mixture of blood and _milk_." Come again? "The whole underside of your stomach is just a reservoir of glands." Her body's shaking with laughter again this time, although she's got the sense to make it silent at least. I on the other hand really don't believe this, although it fits in with the sadistic trend of my life. I've turned into a damn _cat_. No wonder that whole area is so sensitive. At least it seems that the skin has to be pierced to get at the fluid and I haven't grown teats or some shit. Still, perhaps I will take up the Namek on that ridiculous offer.

Any further internal grumbling is cut off by something that hurts worse than the cramps I've had over the last few hours put together, although I'll be damned if I give that away. At the most I grimace. It's enough to get Bulma to snap back to seriousness again and pick up her scanner, running it casually over my stomach before lifting her brow and giving me a plain look. "Congratulations. You're in labor, and that was your first contraction."

To say that my mood darkened from the sarcasm in those words is a tad of an understatement. There's presently a persistent mental image of my tail squeezing her head like a grape skirting about in my mind. My own words echo her tone and my face is a tightly controlled mask. I really do feel that I've just lost all control of my body. First milk from my stomach and then contractions that hurt _that_ much and are just destined to get worse, all in the same minute. "It's a beautiful moment, really"

She snorts before her expression drops and becomes serious. It almost happens fast enough to unsettle me, but I've lived around her for too long for her swings to throw me off. I can feel it too though; this sense of finality, that this is all real. I can't feel my knees anymore and I'm very glad that I'm already sitting as I don't think my ego could suffer the indignity of collapsing in front of her. This all seemed a lot less real a few weeks ago, Hell it was almost ignorable when I first got over the initial shock. Now though…

"Vegeta, you and Goku…" Oh, I can tell this is going to be awkward. She seems to fumble mentally –something I rarely see in her- before trying again, her gaze dropping to the space of mattress between by knees. I cock a brow expectantly.

She shakes her head a little but, paradoxically, continues anyway. Sometimes women make absolutely no sense. "You and I… we have a family, Vegeta -"

I open my mouth to cut her off but she gives me one of her looks. "We have a family, and I think you did love me," she goes on slowly, "But we were never 'mates' as you'd know it in the Saiyan sense of the word. I've been watching you and Goku together these last few months, and you both just fit, and you'd both be happy if you'd stop being such a stubborn shit and get over yourself."

Another pain like the one before swells around my gut, squeezing hard for a few seconds and then tapering away again. I lean back on my hands with a low groan. "You really pick your moments, woman."

In further demonstration of her bedside manner, Bulma folds her arms and looks me dead in the eye, all seriousness. I can't help but feel that my own attention is, understandably, split right now.

"I know he loves you – I think anyone with half an ounce of sense could see that from how he's been with you. And I think you could love him, if you don't already, if you let yourself." She puts a small, weak, human hand at my elbow and I've never been so keenly aware of contact against my skin. "We're still going to be here, Vegeta, but right now you need to be with him and your son."

I shift under the awareness of how pressing time is, gripping the edge of the bed and glancing briefly at the floor. There doesn't seem to be a way of articulating the words that won't come out, even for my own sake. This permission she's granted, insisted, feels like it's lifted a weight. But it still doesn't make it right.

She suddenly grabs my chin and any feelings of kindness I've allowed to grow towards her disintegrate. Her eyes are firm and I can see the reflection of her hand on my jaw in them. "I don't want a sham marriage with a man who's absent in heart, who's with someone else on every level except the mental. Be with him."

I grit my teeth. "That's not your choice."

A loud huff and she rolls her eyes, striding away to me to a drawer and coming back with a syringe. I don't trust that. "If the bond that's grown between you helps with physical pain, how do you think it's going to effect you if you reject it outright?"

I bat the hand bearing the syringe of unknown drugs away, taking her slim wrist. Another contraction swells and it's an effort not to clench my hand and subsequently break her arm. "My body does not decide for me."

Ignoring my grip, Bulma leans in close to my face with a softer expression than seems appropriate. "Sometimes the body knows what's best. Suck it up." She wrenches her hand away and I let it go. "Do you want the damn painkillers or not?"

My face tightens as another band of cramping pain strikes. It feels natural to lie down now, so I lift my knees and do just that. Junior isn't knocking around right now, and I can only assume he's psyching up for a difficult birth. "No, just go get the damn baka in here."

Bulma nods and starts towards the door. "I'll find where he is – I doubt he's far. Are you sure you're going to be alright in here on your own?"

Bringing my knees up, I run my hands about my stomach until my fingers encounter wetness at the base. Blood and clear cellular fluid, neither in lethal amounts. Just, disconcerting. "Just peachy. Hurry up, though."

'''''''''''''''''''''''

Feedback, as always, welcomed and adored. With any luck I'll have this story finished for good within the next chapter.


	7. Fin

He couldn't believe this was actually happening

He couldn't believe this was actually happening. Even during the baby's most active moments during the pregnancy, it had still all seemed unreal to him. Now, having contractions every minute or so and acutely aware that this was it – it was going to be born, Vegeta had little choice but to face up to the reality. That didn't mean he had to like it though.

"For fuck's sake, what is it you want?" he grunted down at his stomach, and specifically the baby within it. "Surely you're as pissed off with being in there as I am."

Tipping his head back with a sigh, he glowered at the ceiling before pulling his shirt up and off. It was only going to get in the way very shortly. Looking back down at his stomach seemed to trigger another contraction and a firm kick from the child as well. "Stop that," he barked, seeing the action as wholly unnecessary and done just to spite him. The only reason he was entering into this one sided dialogue was because he was still alone here in the infirmary. He pointed at the weeping slit at the base of his stomach. "It's right there: open, bleeding and everything. Just get out!"

New heights of pain and Vegeta flopped back with a groan, tail lashing spasmodically. "I'm going to kill that thick headed idiot when this is over, whether you like him or not."

Rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth through the next wave of pain, Vegeta resolved himself to stop talking to his stomach. Though, he'd forgive himself quite a lot at this point in time. Labour had had Bulma making weird noises and even stranger facial expressions. However, he was going to maintain his dignity through this birth, even if someone had to die for it.

He'd been in more pain than this on a great many occasions. Hell, he'd died. But oh, he reasoned as he laid his hands gingerly on his stomach, he just wasn't built for this. He was designed to beat seven shades of pain into anyone who caught his attention, and to take the same awesome punishment. Nothing like this, though. Women had broad hips and bones designed to part. He had a partially mutated body that seemed to be peeling open in the most convenient strip it could find, and he hadn't had years to get used to the idea of perhaps having a little person coming out of him some day. The sheer strangeness of all this alone was enough to justify anything he said or did. If he ended up with Goku's guilty parts being squashed in his fist, in fact, he'd point that out.

Though acutely aware of the knife strapped down in his boot, he knew that now wasn't the time for it. Logically it was, as slipping the blade through the last few layers of flesh and subsequently completing the birth canal his body insisted he have would hurry this along. But instinctually he knew that now wasn't the time to use the implement, and that was enough to let his body deal with it naturally.

When Bulma returned with Goku she had been running, but the Saiyan still beat her to the side of the bed. He blanched at the blood and took his mate's hand, obviously lost as to what to do. Vegeta closed his eyes and waved his free hand vaguely. "It's not as bad as it looks."

Seconds later he was glad he'd opened his eyes when he did as he caught sight of Bulma coming at him with a scalpel and a determined expression. "No, put that down right now." A pause as the sharp edge of a contraction passed. "Just let him come."

She gestured with the blade but didn't move it to his flesh. "If you let me cut it you won't tear and this will be over a whole lot quicker."

Goku looked down to him with a face dripping with concern. "Maybe she's right, Vegeta."

He scowled in the absolute negative. "I said no. I'm getting along fine so far. I don't need help." It crossed his mind that Goku might leave at that, and as the pain had dulled considerably since the larger man had appeared at his bedside, he tightened his grip on his hand so he wouldn't go anywhere.

Catching the faintly amused but endlessly concerned look Goku gave him, he mustered up a scowl. "I don't need your help," he repeated, stressing the 'need'. 'Want' was, disconcertingly, another matter.

Of everyone in the room, the woman was the last person I'd have expected to lose her head. To his credit, Kakarrot has sided with me in the opinion that Saiyan bodies are tough and can survive far more than this kid could possibly throw at me. Bulma just doesn't like being in the dark about anything.

Still waving a scalpel and looking psychotic, she has started outright shouting at me. As I can't get up, I think this is quite unfair. And I'll have to wait a while until I can blow up something important in her lab.

Her fringe has started to stick to her forehead with sweat. "Vegeta, get this through your thick skull, you stubborn bastard of a man: If you don't let me cut this baby out, you could very well die on this bed."

I decide to go to staring at the ceiling because that isn't actively pissing me off at the moment. "Look woman, I -"

"Don't say you know what you're doing because none of us could possibly know," she dives in with a screeching tone, "and as the only one here that has already successfully given birth, you should be listening to what I tell you."

On some subconscious level, I hear a quiet 'snap' in my head and fire a glare at her. "No! I don't know what I'm doing but this feels fine, so don't go interfering and fucking things up." I feel Kakarrot run his thumb across my hand, supportive. I forget sometimes how easily that comes to him. "My body seems to have done alright on its own so far, so put the damn knife down and leave me be."

The woman's mouth tightens into a line so firm that the colour leeches out of her lips, but she puts down the scalpel and folds her arms, resigned. Satisfied, I return my gaze to the ceiling tiles as my hand moves down about my stomach to the splitting flesh beneath. Psychologically it feels like a cavern though I know that it can't be more than a few centimeters deep. Within the wound, the ragged edges don't hurt to touch. The pain seems to principally be coming from deeper within, where pressure is building and amniotic fluid is steadily trickling away. I think the separation is nearly deep enough now, and already wide enough to accommodate the child.

"I don't think it'll be long now," I announce flatly, withdrawing my hand and peripherally noting Bulma inspecting the area. She doesn't touch though, to my approval.

Kakarrot squeezes my hand gently to get my attention. "Is it okay to… can I feel it? I mean, would it hurt you?"

I bite down my initial response of not being some freak show subject to be poked and prodded for his own curiosity. I'm his mate, and he is my mate. I appear to have, as Trunks would put it, 'grown' in the last few hours to be able to think such a thing. That talk with Bulma was apparently overdue. "You won't hurt me. Go ahead. Just don't go pulling anything."

Kakarrot looks horrified at the suggestion but hesitantly brings his hand to my stomach, eyes clicking between the split and my face every couple of seconds. He makes contact bang on cue for another contraction, but this feels significantly more like pressure rather than pain and I pass through it silently with a long exhale.

Feeling my muscles twitch and more fluid pass through his fingers, Kakarrot makes a stuttered sound of disbelief. "Wow. Vegeta, this is really it, isn't it?"

Putting my hands against the bed, I force myself up into a more upright position with a hiss. "Seems like it." The new position seems to have helped immensely as I feel the last layers of flesh part, like a bubble reaching capacity and peeling open. "Keep your hand there, Kakarrot."

Bulma looks from him to me, her hand going out for my tense wrist and I feel her fingers seeking the dip to read my pulse. "Are you going to be pushing now? Doesn't seem to have been a lot of pushing going on."

I roll my eyes and bring the list of things to break in her lab after all this up to two items. If I'm still in the mood then. "I'm not shoving the brat out between pieces of bone," I snap between gritted teeth, feeling another contraction beginning to gain force. This is going to be the one.

"Something's happening," Kakarrot alerts us unnecessarily with a note of panic. "I think it's -"

The significant muscles in my stomach clench in a descending band, and I experience the damn weird sensation of something passing out of me. It's not like having an impaled foreign body removed, or even a deep punch withdrawn. This is smoother, more organic. Still fucking painful though. Apparently acting upon some deeply set instinct, I feel Kakarrot's hand press inside me, cradling the baby on its way out. It feels very weird, to say the least.

At the last moment my arms give out from under me and I flop back, closing my eyes with a grunt and feeling my tail curl with a shudder. Then every muscle freezes when I hear it wail, loud and strong. My son. Our son. The first pure blooded Saiyan to be born in decades. The first chance our species has had of continuing in Kakarrot's hands.

"Give him to me." The words come out strangely more as a request than a command. Kakarrot gawks down at the wet bundle curled in his palms for a few more seconds before apparently hearing me and laying him down on my chest. I'm awareof Bulma running the scalpel through the tough cord connecting us, but just barely as my whole world has been suddenly reduced to this one, suddenly silent tiny being. He's hot and slick, dark eyes blinking slowly and black hair lying matted against his back. His tail slaps about feebly and finds my wrist when I lay my hands on him, curling around to anchor immediately. I had purposefully not thought about what this moment would be like. Didn't dare. There was so much that could have gone wrong. I can't believe how perfect he is – every bit a Saiyan, strong and healthy and beautiful.

"Vegeta," Bulma breaks in softly, "let me give him a once over and clean him up, then you can have him back."

It's a huge conscious effort to overcome the impulse that he is _mine_ and that _no one_ else is going to touch him, but I release my grip for her to slip her hands inside mine and lift his slight weight off me. Kakarrot watches as closely as I do as he's carried a few steps away, apparently feeling just as protective.

"He's not too small or anything, is he Bulma?" he asks with a softer note of concern than I would have predicted. Perhaps he's putting some faith in my faith that our son is fine.

His crying is coming in little stutters now as he's cleaned with smooth, efficient hands, and Bulma wraps him in a starkly white blanket. "No, I think he's fine. Certainly complaining a lot." An arch look in my direction. "Definitely your son."

"Shut up woman and bring him back," I snap, shrugging off the hand that touches briefly at my shoulder. I regret doing that pretty much immediately at the line of pain from my gut. It's followed by another contraction. "Isn't that supposed to have stopped now?"

Bulma places the newborn back on my chest before squinting at my stomach. With a gloved hand, I can only assume she runs her fingers along the inside of the tear, which I don't enjoy. "Got a bit more to come, yet."

I blink and am pretty sure my heart stops. "There's not another one in there, is there?"

Kakarrot looks about to faint, which makes me feel infinitely better.

To my relief the woman snorts and straightens. "No, just the placenta. You'll probably pass that on your own in a few minutes. Then I guess your Saiyan healing will kick in, or I'll stitch you up."

I nod, satisfied that the drama has now passed, and return my focus to the child. It doesn't feel right to have him all wrapped up, so I peel away the blanket until his skin is pressed against mine again, the cotton lying atop him to keep him warm. Kakarrot lays his hand atop his head, thumbing the mess of hair and grinning like an idiot. Don't know why he's so proud. I did all the damn work.

"Well brat, guess we need to figure out what to call you now."

Kakarrot nods then apparently sees something happening at my stomach, where I can't see. His grin vanishes and his face twists into a grimace. "Oh, oh Vegeta I wish you could see this. It's absolutely disgusting."

Dimly I hear the very distinct sound of Bulma trying not to laugh. More acutely I tense to kick Kakarrot. "You have ended people's lives, been in day long battles at my side, just watched me give birth and you can't handle afterbirth?"

He fidgets, one hand on the baby and the other coming to touch the back of his neck. "Yeah, but the first bit was nice and special and stuff. This is… well it's gross. It's all dark and slimy and -"

Now I feel nauseous. "Shut up. Stop talking and get out."

Apparently Bulma sees fit to stir some more. "You know, Goku, in some cultures they fry it up and eat it. Good protein."

He blanches noticeably at that and gives me something of a desperate look, bordering on nausea. I bat a hand at him, still looking at the baby on my chest as a means of ignoring the gentler contractions. "Oh, go away and throw up. I'm busy here."

Vegeta had spent the last hour lying and relishing the sensations of having a newborn against his side and a stomach that was almost flat again. There was only some swelling now, and the birth canal had clotted firmly once the afterbirth had come through. He felt surprisingly good. Tired and prone to moments of clarity upon just how strange all this was, but good. This was in part due to the endorphins that had flooded his body just after the birth, a trait seen in humans as well. It mellowed the muscles to encourage rest and enhanced the feelings of love and protection towards the newborn.

The child, still unnamed for the time being, purred quietly against his ribs and arm, nestled snugly as Vegeta ran his slender tail between his fingers in what he guessed was a soothing way. He felt much happier to be out of the Infirmary, and he suspected that junior did too, and certainly content to be left alone for a few hours after Bulma's ferocious order for him to 'rest'. Convincing Goku to leave had been a challenge and Vegeta was surprised he hadn't come back from telling Piccolo already.

The purring suddenly stopped and Vegeta propped himself up a little in concern, peering down at the child. It squeaked softly and turned its face into his side, gumming clumsily at his skin and grousing when nothing happened.

"Oh right. I was wondering when you were going to want to get to that. Alright you, up here then," he murmured, gently scooping the baby up and laying him on his stomach. Reaching a hand up beneath the pillow, he drew out the knife he'd bought for what had previously been an unknown reason and unsheathed it. Pricking the bottom of his stomach, beneath the line of clotting, with the tip of the blade, he guided the child to where a thick mix of milk and blood had begun welling up. He latched and began to drink greedily.

Vegeta brought the knife away and watched, waiting for when the wound would clot and he'd need to make a fresh incision. He felt Goku Instant Transport into the same corner of the room that he had for weeks before he saw him. The larger Saiyan approached the bed with an expression of growing curiosity and concern. "Are you sure that's right? Is that what's supposed to happen?"

A one shouldered shrug so that he wouldn't disturb the feeding infant and Vegeta watched Goku come around the bed and gently rest his weight on it. "I guess so. As far as I know, I'm the first Saiyan male to give birth. I know that newborns are fed a mix of blood and milk, and as that's the only place I seem to be making it…" he trailed off, running his fingers down the child's back when it fidgeted and began squeaking again.

"And the knife?" Goku asked, watching as Vegeta brought the blade to his skin and nicked it just enough to release a pearl of fluid.

"No teeth or claws on him yet," Vegeta replied easily, happy that he could at least supply that answer confidently. "Don't know how long this'll last for, though. Hopefully it won't be too long. This is going to get in the way."

Shifting to lie next to him, Goku propped his head up with an elbow and joined Vegeta in running a finger through the infant's hair. "I don't know, I think this is nice. Good for bonding. I kind of wish that I could do something for him. I mean, you've been so close to him all the way through."

It had happened so much now that Vegeta didn't even notice how at ease he was with Goku anymore. Though the bond wasn't sending through such a large amount of warmth anymore, which he could only assume was because the pregnancy was over, he still found great contentment in his proximity. "I think you'll bond with him plenty. I'm not going to be able to move much for a few days until the hole in my gut heals, if the woman's right, so he's going to need you whilst I'm sleeping all this off."

Goku nodded with a soft sound, quite satisfied with that. He paused in stroking the child to run a hand through Vegeta's hair, causing him to look up. "So, I guess we're like a family now, huh?" he broached softly, unsure of where they stood on that whole point. It hadn't been resolved before the birth, but now Vegeta seemed so peaceful, he hoped that something, somehow, had changed.

Vegeta looked away, finding he couldn't help it. "A big family," he replied eventually. "I think he's bridged our families rather than just made us start a new one. He's got plenty of half brothers to help train him."

The larger Saiyan fell silent as he thought about that, feeling truly happy at the prospect. "Have you thought of what we should call him yet?"

"Why is his name up to me?" Vegeta asked, frowning a little. There was no malice in the words.

Goke felt his cheeks colour a little. "Well, you said you didn't want one starting with 'Go', which had me kind of stumped. So, have you thought of any?"

Vegeta remained quietly thoughtful for so long that Goku began to wonder if he'd said or done something to upset the older man. Bulma had had a quiet word with him that his body chemicals were all over the place right now, so he could go from mellow to wildly emotional even faster than he could have before.

Finally though, Vegeta sighed and glanced up at him before contemplating the child again. "He's a pure Saiyan, and my son. His birthright would have been to the throne of Vegetasai. Very likely he's going to grow to be stronger than either of us."

Goku nodded slightly, seeing what his mate was getting at. "You want him to have a traditional Saiyan name, don't you?"

"Or something close. I don't know. I haven't thought of anything." The infant had stopped feeding as the wound had clotted, and Vegeta took the opportunity to sit the boy up, as if examining him again. "What do you think of Daiki?"

Repeating the name to feel how it sound, Goku hmm'ed to himself. "What does it mean."

"Precious, great, noble."

Goku smiled, perfectly aware that Vegeta hadn't come up with that name just now. "Sounds perfect." He looked to their son, now blinking sleepily. "Hi Daiki, welcome to the world."

"May you have a better life than us all," Vegeta murmured just loud enough to be heard.

Six months ago, Goku would have seen only the bitterness in that wish from Vegeta to his son. But after really getting to know the man, to understand the nature of his emotional shields and mental cul-de-sacs, he saw that his mate had only wished their son to have the very best in life. The prince didn't want Daiki to suffer anything like he had following the loss of Vegetasai and his years of borderline servitude.

This clarity of understand combined with the mated bond put Goku in a position to find great pleasure and comfort in the notion of them staying with each other for as long as was possible. He had loved his wife, and in his own way he was sure Vegeta had loved Bulma. This was something else though – something not formed through thought, reason and emotion. This was blood, instinct and urge. This was Saiyan.

Running a single blunt finger down the side of Vegeta's face, he smiled when the other man didn't show any signs of minding. "I love you."

Vegeta caught his breath in surprise, then felt an alien swell of warmth at the words as Goku's hand made another sweep down his cheek. The affection had been there for some time – almost since they had started sleeping together months ago, though platonically. Heat had only started to rise between them in the last few weeks, and now that Daiki was here and Bulma had given her blessing…

He'd always thought that he'd loved Bulma, Trunks and Bra as much as he thought he was capable of loving anyone. But this child that he had carried and cared for, and with this bond with Goku, everything seemed different. As much faith as he could find in the statement, however, the words were still alien in his mouth and it would be a while before he could get them out without it sound begrudging. "I think," he began hesitantly, an peculiar state for him, "I could say that back."

Goke smiled and kissed the top of his head, knowing that that was the closest he was going to get for the time being. It was significant though. Even if Vegeta couldn't say the words, he could feel love coming back through the bond. There had been a growing trickle before, but now it seemed unrestrained and almost welcomed.

fin

I don't know if the final chapter would have been stronger or weaker had it been written a few years ago when the bulk of this piece was written. I'm glad it's finishing, though, and that I no longer have to keep feeling guilty when I stumble across it again. I hope you enjoyed the story. Thank you for reading.


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